


Uzuri na Mnyama

by CrossingInStyle



Series: The Legend of Mnyama [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Austin is adorable, Background RedHatter, F/M, Fish out of water shenanigans, Gaston is a creeping creeper creep, Gen, Imp!Rumple, Jungle Smut!, Magical Healing Sperm lol, tarzan au, woobie!Rumple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13267014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossingInStyle/pseuds/CrossingInStyle
Summary: Sequel to Mnyama.Rum and Belle are blissfully married, living in the outskirts of the Hadithi village. When Belle is kidnapped, Rum must follow her all the way to England, immersing into a world he's never known.TEA 2018 NOMINEE FOR BEST SERIES!





	1. Married Life

**Author's Note:**

> Uzuri na Mnyama - Swahili for Beauty and the Beast
> 
> So here it is! My sequel to Mnyama!
> 
> This story was actually originally part of Mnyama, but I realized that it was just too much to fit into one fic, so I removed it and decided to make a part 2 instead! And if this one goes over well, there will actually probably be a third one as well. 
> 
> The first chapter is pretty long, but there just wasn't a good place to break it, and I wanted to get the setup stuff out of the way so I could get straight to the drama, lol. So don't expect every chapter to be this way! I'll likely keep to my previous schedule of posting on Thursdays. Thanks to everyone for the continued support!!

Belle gasped, coming back to earth from a sleepy, pleasure-induced haze.

She opened her bleary eyes, making a conscious effort to loosen her fingers from their death grip in her husband’s hair as his tousled head popped up from under the sheets, a wild grin on his face, and golden eyes bright.

“Don’t need to look so smug,” she murmured, her now almost limp hand lazily tracing the lines and scales on Rum’s cheeks.

She’d been awoken from a deep, dreamless sleep in the most pleasant of ways; already seconds from orgasm due to a hot tongue working busily between her thighs.

Rum chuckled, his voice gravelly from sleep and arousal. “Not smug.”

“Mmm, that’s a canary eating look if I’ve ever seen one.”

Rum blinked in confusion. “Canary eating?”

“Oh, never mind. Get up here, you.”

Rum clearly didn’t need to be asked twice, and leapt up to hover over her with the speed and agility only he could manage this early in the morning. He entered her with one swift thrust, and Belle let out an involuntary moan.

In the two years they’d been living as husband and wife, Belle felt like they’d perfected the art of lovemaking. Rum loved her with nothing short of exuberant and utter joy every time, desperate to do anything and everything she so much as hinted at desiring. There was no shame, no hesitation, and he never failed to make her feel like absolutely the most beautiful and desired woman in the world, while she did her best to make him feel the same.

In short, marriage to the Mnyama was heaven.

Not that it didn’t come without its own challenges…

Rum was never able to assimilate fully into the Hadithi – or human – way of life. He was wild through and through, and even though Belle truly loved him for that, it was a simple fact that _she_ needed to be around people, needed to live as they did.

So they compromised by building a house in the outskirts of a village. It was a large, stunning treehouse, far above the ground, in the same tree Belle had climbed so often as a child. It was a good compromise, because while Belle was a just a short walk away from her father’s hut, the distance was great enough that they didn’t have to worry about the nosiness of the Hadithi when it came to their English sister and her crocodile-skinned ape-man.

Besides, Belle had learned that she wasn’t very good at keeping quiet…

“Rum!” she shouted, trailing her nails down his textured back.

Rum groaned, his movements growing shakier until he stilled above her, pulsing inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, heedless of his weight, and she secretly loved it when he did that. Secret, because if she ever mentioned it, even though the crushing feeling was oddly comforting, he would probably stop out of worry of hurting her.

But however much he worried of hurting her, aware of his superior strength, the truth was that he could be much rougher with his wife than he could ever be with anyone else, because it was simply difficult to hurt her.

Not that she _couldn’t_ be hurt, but as time went on, she’d found herself to be highly resistant to pain. Cuts healed in hours, and the badly broken wrist she’d suffered while helping to build the treehouse was back to normal in only a week.

Her ability to heal was actually a little faster than Rum’s, although she noticed no increase in strength, to her slight disappointment.

But it still wasn’t something they tended to discuss. Perhaps it should have been, but Rum just accepted it the way he accepted most things, and the idea made Belle too uneasy to dwell on for too long.

How exactly do you broach the subject of sexually transmitted healing abilities?

When Rum rolled off of her, sated and drowsy, they exchanged happy grins.

“I love you,” Belle whispered.

“I love you,” Rum whispered back before sighing. “Better get up now.”

Belle groaned. “Must we?” she rolled over onto her stomach as Rum climbed out of bed, taking the opportunity to admire his adorable backside as the sun filtering through the windows made his greenish-gray scales shimmer gold.

“You have to teach,” he said fiddling with his sarong. Two years, and he’d yet to fully master it.

Belle hummed and slid out from under the covers, coming to kneel on the foot of the bed. “I suppose I do. And you have animals to tend. Let me help you with that.”

Rum stood patiently while she fastened the wrapper snugly about his hips, letting her hands linger on his skin and wondering, not for the first time, if her husband was feigning the inability to do it himself just to prolong the amount of time she touched him every morning. If he was, she’d never let on she knew.

They’d both taken on jobs in the village. Belle taught children, just the way her mother once did. While her father taught the older teenagers and adults who chose to learn English, math, and science, Belle taught the young children. She taught them basic English, but focused more on reading and writing in both languages, and strove to introduce them to stories from any and every type of culture she could, so that their worlds could stretch far beyond the village.

Rum, for his part, had drifted toward helping with the tribe’s animals, to no one’s surprise. He was the only one who could easily herd the temperamental sheep. And Belle knew it was because he would whisper to them when no one else was looking, and she could swear she could _see_ the conspiratorial looks on their faces when they listened to no one but him.

Belle wondered sometimes how comfortable Rum was in his new life. He still went out into the jungle, sometimes alone and sometimes with her at his side, but not nearly as often as she’d expected he would, and he never strayed very far away. Their days were more or less the same; they would wake up, go to their respective occupations, spend the afternoon in the village, eat supper with her father and sometimes with Johari and her children, and then return home for the evening. Of course, time at home was spent enjoying one another to the fullest extent, and Belle was fairly positive that Rum had no complaints about _that_. But she still wondered if he was fully _happy_.

Though the Hadithi had come to accept Rum, it still wasn’t as if he were _one_ of them. Belle understood feeling out of place, because despite having grown up there, her time away had driven a rift of sorts between her and many of the tribe. But Rum’s rift was deeper. He couldn’t easily communicate with them unless they spoke perfect English, and both parties found difficulties with the other’s accents. And there also didn’t seem to be complete trust, either.

Kafara, the young man who Rum had been accused of killing, but turned out to be in league with Gaston Clayton and his men, had indeed met his doom during Belle’s rescue of Rum. Kafara’s brother, father, and the rest of their considerably large family still held a grudge against Rum, for lack of anyone else to blame save for their lost son himself.

And Belle suspected that some of the younger Hadithi placed blame on Rum for the death of their beloved king, Asani.

Johari, Asani’s widow, ruled the Hadithi with a firm, yet fair hand, and most of the tribe embraced her fully, but Belle still saw the looks. The suspicion. Some of it was aimed at Belle, too, and she knew Rum was keen enough to tell.

So it was like Rum was stuck in limbo, neither fully a creature of the jungle, nor fully a man of the world. Belle loved him exactly as he was, of course, and she _knew_ that he loved her too, but she wondered if it was enough.

Or rather, if it would _always_ be enough?

A part of Belle that she rather liked to pretend wasn’t there wondered if she’d awaken one morning, ten years from now, to find that Rum had gone. Gone to be with his gorilla family, and leave the human world with its jealousies and betrayals and all the ugly things she tried to keep from him far behind.

“Belle?”

She jumped out of her musings, looking up to find Rum looking down at her with a curious little tilt to his head. Smiling, she stood up to press a kiss to the side of his mouth, then moved on to dress for the day, making sure to swing her hips a little more than necessary since she could feel him watching her.

Rum wouldn’t leave her, and it was shameful that she could even think it. He was the most loving and loyal person she knew, but that was precisely why it killed her to think of him as anything less than completely happy.

 

“Belle!”

Belle glanced up to see her father making his way toward her. “ _Kazi nzuri!”_ she praised the little girl showing her the letters she’d written before rising to her feet. “Hello, Papa.”

“How are our little scholars doing?” Maurice asked, smiling at the small group of children playing marbles in the sand.

“Wonderful!” Belle enthused. “I love how eager they are to learn.”

“Perhaps one day we can get a proper school built.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, I rather enjoy teaching them outside. What is it you need, Papa?”

Maurice winked at her. “A father can’t come visit his only daughter? Why, I hardly get to see you anymore, so wrapped up in that husband of yours, you are.”

“Papa!” Belle giggled. “You see me every single day for supper! But of _course_ you can visit with me anytime you wish.”

“Not _any_ time,” Maurice scoffed. “Not if I expect you to give me one of _those_ someday!”

It took Belle a full minute to realize Maurice was indicating the children, and she had to gasp. “Father! You never struck me as the type to badger your child for grandchildren.”

Maurice chortled, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders for a hug. “I’m only jesting, my darling girl. Not that I wouldn’t be thrilled.”

Though it warmed Belle to no end both the thought of a child with Rum, and the fact that her father spoke eagerly about the prospect with no word about her husband’s differences, the conversation still struck at her. “It isn’t as though there was anything I could do about it one way or the other,” she murmured. “Other than the obvious, of course. It’s been two years. It’s entirely possible, I suppose, that Rum can’t…or maybe _I_ …”

“Hush now,” Maurice interrupted. “I didn’t mean to upset you, darling. These things happen in their own time, and whatever is meant to happen, will.”

Belle’s smile this time was a little shaky. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Now, the reason I was looking for you…”

Belle huffed. “I thought you said you only wanted to see me!”

“And I do! But it also just so happens that I have a letter…”

Belle cut him off with a squeal, snatching the letter he’d produced with a kiss to his cheek to apologize for the snatch.

“You see why I wanted to visit a bit before showing it to you?” he laughed. “Go on, I’ll escort the children home.”

It was difficult to resist the temptation to open the letter right away, but she resolutely tucked it into her pocket and took off at an unladylike trot to find her husband.

She located him quickly, kneeling down a talking to a goat as if it were a rather interesting conversation. Belle supposed it was.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, leaning on the fence that surrounded the pen. “But look what I have!” she waved the envelope in the air.

Rum grinned and came over to her, effortlessly hopping over the fence before leading her to a shady area where a pile of hay provided a comfortable place to sit.

“It’s been _ages_ since her last letter!” Belle exclaimed, squirming as she impatiently ripped open the envelope and unfolded the sheets of flowery stationary before clearing her throat.

_“Dearest Belle, (and Darlingest Rum because I know you read these to him,)_

_I think your last letter took a bit of a journey before it reached me, as the envelope was a little worse for the wear! Such as it is, corresponding with your best friend when she is thousands of miles away!_

_I am happy to hear that you and Rum are still enjoying marital bliss. You speak as if you’re still newlyweds, even after two years! And fear not, the details you added to your last letter will never leave the safety of the box I keep your letters in, and I wholly appreciate them!”_

“Details?” Rum asked, glancing at her suspiciously.

“It means specific information,” Belle defined the word for him automatically.

Rum grunted. “I know what it means. What _details_?”

Belle glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. “Oh nothing…she was only _curious_ about a few things, and well, I remember how curious _I_ was before I was married, and she _is_ my best friend, after all…”

Rum rolled his eyes, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him do that before.

“Anyways…

“ _My Granny has become like a dog with a bone in terms of me finding a suitable husband. She’ll not arrange a marriage for me, thank the Lord, but she isn’t exactly subtle about introducing me to her friends’ sons. It isn’t as though I don’t wish to marry, it is only that ~~I wish~~ I know how it is with you and Rum. Is it wrong that I desire that kind of love for myself?”_

“Poor Ruby,” Belle murmured, looking up at Rum. “She deserves to be loved every bit as much as you love me.”

Rum smiled. “She does. She will.”

_“By the way, Granny says to tell you hello, and that she wishes you would…in her words…come back and convince her wayward granddaughter to settle down already, and bring your husband so that she may approve of him personally. I’ve not told her, of course, anything about Rum except for that you’re madly in love with him and he’s a very good man. I like to think that after an initial adverse reaction, Granny would come to rather like him._

_Other than that, life in London is same as always. Gossip, pointless intrigues, “oh why oh why didn’t I get invited to such and such ball”…but it would probably please you to know that the gossip mill seems to officially gotten bored of “lovely Belle French who spirited away to Africa with her fiancé, only to go mad with grief when he went missing in the jungle and married an African man instead.” (It sounds a lot better than “the lovely Belle French who murdered her fiancé”…and I hope you appreciate the effort I made into making you only insane not murderous when I helped spread the rumor!)_

_I swear the only respite I have from the ridiculousness of society is Jefferson. My Granny doesn’t like him calling on me. He’s unstable and a pariah, according to her, and everyone else in London. He was labeled thus after returning home without most of the party he’d gone to Africa with. Whatever he did to convince Killian Jones and Samuel Lefou to go to America I’ll never know, but he insists that his new reputation is the most freeing thing he’s ever experienced. He no longer has to worry about tiresome parties and money grubbing young ladies and their mothers. If it were anyone else, I might not believe he was really happy about it, but Jefferson doesn’t lie to me._

_I’ll actually see him later this afternoon in the park…since that is the only way I ever get to see him…and I intend to ask him if he would like to include a message to you._

Belle flipped to the next page, and found it only contained a short passage written in a different hand. “It says to Rum. Would you like to give it a try, love?”

Rum furrowed his brow, but took the sheet of paper from her, and began to carefully read the words.

“ _Rum,_

_I h…hop…hope yow –_ no _– you_ _and your love-ly wife are get-ting along well. I m…must say I m…miss your s…sca…scaly? Scaly face. LLLondon is_ um…”

“Quite,” Belle provided.

“Ah. _Quite dull co…commm – pared to Africa. I bet you and Belle are h…having ad…ven…ture after adventure. Hope-fully I can come back and shhh-are in some adventures myself! Or per-haps I can con…con…convince? you to come to London. I thhhink you would be a sm…smash. Oh, ssstop making that face, Belle.”_

Rum looked up, then chuckled when he saw that Belle, indeed, was making a face. When she caught him looking at her, they both chuckled. “Keep going,” she said. “You’re doing wonderfully!”

Preening slightly, Rum continued to read.

_“G…give Belle a k…kiss for me. Your fffriend, Jefferson.”_

“How nice!” Belle enthused. “You’ll have to write him back.”

“Not good at writing,” he said, leaning up to press the requested kiss to her cheek.

“You just need more practice, and correspondence is the perfect way to do that! Look, there’s more from Ruby.”

“ _I almost forgot to tell you! I had tea with Mary Margaret and David last week. I’m sure you get letters from them separately, but it should please you to know they’re just as happy and ridiculous as always. I’ve never understood what people meant by expecting women “glowing,” but now I think I see. Mary Margaret is truly glowing, and David just glows every time he looks at her. The little one should be coming along soon! I cannot wait to take my place as indulgent auntie._

_I suppose that is all for now. I miss you Belle, so much. There are times I think of things I am dying to say to you, but it all comes out so trite in writing. Little things, like can you believe that Ashley Boyd wore_ red _to Ariel Fischer’s wedding? And did you hear about Regina Mill’s sister who just moved in with her? I’ve heard she’s even more terrifying than Regina herself!_

_I wish you weren’t so far away, but I know that you’re far happier there than you ever would have been in London. I love you, my dear friend! And you as well, Rum!_

_Your best friend always,_

_Ruby.”_

Belle rubbed at the sudden wetness in her eyes. She felt Rum place his hand over the one still holding the letter.

“Don’t be sad,” he said.

“It’s only that I miss her,” Belle said. “We were inseparable for so very long. I think you don’t realize how very much someone means to you until they aren’t there anymore.”

“Maybe go visit?” Rum suggested. “Maurice said he can pay.”

Belle shook her head. “I don’t want to go to London. Not if it meant leaving you.”

Rum smiled wryly. “I think Jefferson is wrong, I wouldn’t do well in London.”

“ _You_ would be fine,” Belle said firmly. “It’s everyone else who would have problems.”

“I know what I am,” he said softly. “I wasn’t accepted as I was…son of a coward. I will never be accepted as I am now.”

Belle gaped at him. In the years she’d been with him, he’d _never_ spoken of his life before the laboratory. She had always assumed that he simply didn’t remember. He’d only been four years old, after all. And he’d never openly spoken about his physical differences, either.

“You’re accepted by those that matter,” she said, looking directly into his eyes. “Me, Papa, Johari, Ruby, Jefferson…Bae. _We’re_ your family, Rum. And the reason I don’t want to leave you to go to London is because I _love_ you and I don’t like being apart from you.”

The mention of Bae caused a strained look in her husband’s eyes, and she sympathized. Rum’s surrogate son had not been back with the rest of their gorilla family in quite some time, and they were both beginning to grow worried. Soon the rains would come again, and it would be months before the troop would be able to come back down from the mountains.

“I know,” Rum said, leaning in to kiss her. “Do not want you to go away. Miss you too much.”

“Then that settles that!”

 

Rum lay in bed beside his wife, staring up at the thatch roof, one arm slung over his head, the other pinned under her naked body. He was tired after such a long day, but found he couldn’t get to sleep.

Seeing Belle’s face contort in pain after reading Ruby’s letter had torn at his heart. It wasn’t as if he thought she wanted to return to her life in London. He knew good and well she didn’t. But he couldn’t help but wish he was the type of husband who could take his wife wherever she pleased, whenever she wanted.

She told him often about her parents’ travels before she came along and they decided to plant roots. Maurice and Collette had seen the world, and he _knew_ that as much as Belle loved her life and family here, that the desire to see the world was ingrained into her. She deserved a man who had the means to make that happen, and more than that, could walk among people anywhere and not worry about anyone screaming in fear.

He pretended not to notice the way many of the Hadithi looked at him, and in truth it didn’t really bother him for his own sake, but it hurt that his wasn’t a face Belle could be proud to be married to.

He still remembered the one and only time his father had visited him after delivering him to the laboratory. The scales and discoloration had only just begun, but his papa had looked at him like he was a monster.

_“What have ye done?! This isna’ a boy, it’s a beast! Do ye honestly expect me to take this…this_ thing _back to Scotland? Well I dinna want it back!”_

Rum rolled his head to look at his sleeping wife. So kind, so sweet, and so very beautiful. He didn’t need to see many women to know his wife’s beauty, inside and out, surpassed all.

He wondered what a child between them would look like. Would any of his differences transfer over? A child that looked like his mother, with milky skin and sky blue eyes...a child that had his father’s strength and ability to heal…that would be wonderful. But what if the child _looked_ like his father? Rum could bear being stared at for his looks, but he could never stand it if his child suffered the same.

It seemed to be a moot point anyway. He vaguely remembered the doctor who made him this way saying the word _sterilization_ in reference to him. He of course had no idea what that meant at the time, but had since learned the meaning while thumbing through one of Maurice’s medical dictionaries, trying to practice his reading by making out the difficult words that supplied pronunciation guides and definitions.

He’d never confessed his suspicions to Belle. He knew she would be sweet and loving and say something like, “you’re all I need,” but he also knew she would be heartbroken to know for sure that a child would never come. And he was terrified that, in time, she could come to resent him for the fact.

He rolled over fully, wrapping his free arm around her waist to pull her against his chest. She snuffled sweetly in her sleep, burrowing against him in a way that reminded him of a lion cub. Rum smiled, wondering if he would ever reach a point that he loved her as much as he could, and didn’t keep falling in love with her ever more.

He didn’t think he would.


	2. Elephant Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum and Belle get word that some elephants are being poached, and go off to help them.

Belle swatted impatiently at the bug brushing against her cheek, snuggling further into Rum’s chest and striving for just a _little_ more sleep. The tickling continued though, and she slowly became aware of someone breathing…and it wasn’t coming from the body beneath her ear.

She gasped and sat upright, shrieking when she came face-to-face with someone else.

The someone else let out a cry of alarm as well, and bounced off the bed to scuttle up one of the branches that acted as their home’s support beams.

Rum was already up, crouching on the bed with a wild look in his eyes, his hair standing on end. “What…?!”

Belle was pointing up toward the roof, at the face that was peeking around the branch. “Up…there.”

It was a gorilla, small and very young. Belle slid out of bed and hurriedly donned her robe before glancing back at her husband who was still prepared for an attack; squatting stark naked among the rumpled blankets.

“I think we’re safe,” Belle laughed. “We only have a visitor.”

Belle, making soothing noises, coaxed the young gorilla back down. It didn’t take much, and she was soon gasping in surprise as the ape launched himself into her arms, making her stagger back at the sudden weight.

“Oh my… _Austin_?!” she exclaimed. “Is that you?!”

She sat heavily on the bed, pulling him away from her to better see his face. “It is! Rum look! It’s Austin! Oh, he’s gotten _so_ big! I almost didn’t recognize him!”

Rum leaned over her shoulder to knuckle Austin’s chin, and Austin grunted happily.

Austin either said something, or Rum heard another noise, because he was suddenly perked up in attention, and hopping off the bed and toward the door.

“Rum, your clothes!” she called after him, but he ignored her.

She hefted up the now very heavy little gorilla who still clung to her like a baby, and followed Rum out the door to stand on the porch that looked out toward the mountains.

Rum was already on the ground, embracing a gorilla who Belle immediately recognized as Bae. No one could miss that body full of brown floof.

Bae had grown recently as well, and Belle suspected that he was soon reaching full size. He now towered as tall as Rum when Rum stood to his own full height.

Belle swung Austin onto her back and climbed down the ladder. Once she was on the ground, Bae caught sight of her, and she had only a second to prepare before she was being tackled to the grass.

“It’s good to see you, too,” she laughed, trying to embrace Bae while keeping from crushing poor Austin. “Is it only the two of them?” Belle asked once she was allowed to sit up.

Rum looked around. “Seems so,” he made some gorilla sounds at Bae, who responded in kind. Rum’s brow furrowed in concern. “There is trouble.”

“Trouble?” Belle pulled Austin into her lap, stroking his fur. “With the troop? What sort of trouble?”

“No, not troop. Elephants,” Rum said. “I think maybe hunters.”

Belle furrowed her brow. “Well, that’s terrible. I detest the hunting of elephants unless absolutely necessary. But…why would Bae come all the way back just to tell you that?”

“Elephants are…” Rum hesitated, mentally searching his vocabulary for the word. “…sacred. Almost like gods to the gorillas, and many other animals. Very important to the Jungle. If Bae has come to tell me, it must be bad. Rest of troop is alright, though.”

“Then what must we do?”

Rum fixed her with a look that was half-amused, half-concerned. “We?”

Belle sighed, brushing Austin’s hand away from her mouth. “Of course, _we_. If you’re thinking about swinging off to help them, don’t think for a single moment that I’m not coming with you. We’re married. It’s in the marriage contract. I know you couldn’t read when we were married but I assure you, it is.”

Rum was shaking his head and chuckling all through her tirade, but politely waited until she was finished before speaking. “I believe you. I suppose we should get ready.”

 

Belle went first into the village to find her father and Johari, with Austin clinging to her back. She explained the situation, though she could tell from the look on Johari’s face that she didn’t believe for a moment that a gorilla told Rum to go save the elephants. But that didn’t much matter to Belle, and after Maurice made sure to give her plenty of first aid supplies, she returned to the treehouse to change into the blue linin shirt, gray trousers, and sturdy boots she’d acquired from a merchant who’d passed through months before. There was nothing more freeing than the knowledge that she could go around in men’s clothing and not a soul would speak against it. Least of all her husband, who only gave her rear end an appreciative look and offered to braid her hair for her.

Rum wore the small piece of cloth that covered only his essentials, as it left more room for movement, and Belle wondered if he was developing a sense of modesty that he bothered wearing anything at all. The thought almost made her sad.

When he offered her his back, she eagerly put Austin down and climbed on. They hadn’t swung together in months, and not for any reason but play in years.

“Off on another adventure?” she whispered in his ear.

He twisted his neck so he could kiss her. “Always.”

Rum navigated the trees without rush, keeping an eye on Bae below them, though Belle suspected he already had an idea of where to go.

They traveled for some time, long enough that Belle’s enjoyment of the ride began to wane, and her arms and legs grew stiff from holding on so long. But eventually they came to the end of the treeline, and the savannah opened up before them.

Rum landed on the ground with a huff, and Belle was shocked to see that he looked a bit winded. She supposed his superior strength didn’t mean he couldn’t become a bit out of shape!

“How much farther?” she asked, trying not to sound petulant about it, but she had to walk around a bit to stretch her muscles.

“A little farther,” Rum said. “To the big watering hole.”

His information meant nothing to Belle, but she didn’t comment on it. When he offered her his back again, she shook her head, knowing it would be far too uncomfortable for both on them if he carried her while they were on foot. But she also knew that she would never be able to keep up with them, so after a soft nudge with the back of her wrist to get his attention, Belle patted Bae’s back to ask permission.

Bae hunched down and offered a hand to hoist her up, and even though it was far more enjoyable to cling to her husband, she had to admit that Bae’s much broader back and plush fur made for a rather more comfortable ride.

Thankfully Austin was still able to keep up as they ran across the savannah, and Belle was increasingly grateful for her choice in clothing, as it protected most of her body from the searing sun. She hoped Rum’s unique skin couldn’t burn.

They slowed near a small copse of prickly bushes, but Belle could see no sign of a watering hole or elephants.

The reason for the pause made itself apparent though when a lone lioness stalked out from behind the tree, eyeing them placidly.

“Hello, Mal!” Belle greeted. “Why is she alone?”

“Merely hunting,” Rum said, greeting his old friend with a fond scratch on her head. “She has seen the disturbance, however. The hunters. It isn’t far now.”

 

They continued on, and at long last Belle could see something up ahead, but she couldn’t yet tell what. They slowed down, although it was nearly impossible to sneak up, they made their way to an acacia tree and hid behind the trunk.

Belle pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her cry of horror. At least five elephants lay dead on the ground, and men were hacking away at their tusks. If any of the rest of the herd was still alive, they were nowhere to be seen, but a baby elephant was there, alive, and being led around on a rope by a man who taunted it with a machete.

“How…could…” Rum hissed, his fury making his speech come haltingly again.

“They just want the tusks, the ivory,” Belle said, her fingers digging into Bae’s fur. “The bastards will take nothing else, they’ll just leave the bodies. When a single one of them could feed an entire village.”

Rum’s shoulder’s twitched, and that was all Belle needed to see to know he was about to lunge into the open. She practically fell off of Bae’s back to grab onto Rum with both hands, anchoring him firmly.

“What are you going to do?” she demanded. “They’re already dead. We can’t save them!”

“Punish,” Rum growled.

“It isn’t your place to punish them! We can report them! I’m as angry as you are, Rum, but you’re only going to get yourself into trouble. Or worse, hurt!”

“Won’t let it stand,” he gritted out from between bared teeth before glanced back over his shoulder. “Young elephant. Can save her.”

Belle’s fingers clenched at Rum’s shoulders, and she bit her lip in indecision. She knew logically she couldn’t stop Rum from doing something he wanted to do, and she too wanted to save the elephant, but her heart couldn’t help but feel like one little elephant wasn’t worth the risk to the most important person in the world to her.

But, if Rum didn’t at least try to save the elephant, he wouldn’t be the Rum she loved so very much, so at last she nodded and released his shoulders. “Okay, go. Just _please_ be careful. For me, if nothing else.”

Rum’s eyes softened and he cradled her face between his hands. “I will. Love you, my Belle. Stay…here?””

It tore at her, but she nodded again. She knew he would have better success without having to worry about her. “Here. And I love you, too,” she said against his lips.

With one last kiss he turned and ran toward the poachers. Even though she couldn’t make out details well from the distance, she could hear the screams of terror, and even a few shouts of “ _Mnyama!”_

She grinned when she caught sight of the baby elephant trotting away, hoping against hope that its mother was somewhere waiting for her. But her smile vanished at the first sound of gunshots.

“He can survive gunshots,” she chanted to herself, bile rising in her throat. Knowing that he was close to invincible did nothing for her worry, however.

Worry turned to horror when Austin suddenly broke away, making a break for the commotion.

“Austin!” Belle yelled before she could think better of it, at the same time Bae grunted in shock.

She didn’t think of consequences, only the fact that the baby gorilla she loved as much as a human child was going to get his foolish little self shot, so she took off after him, hoping to catch him before they reached the fray.

She didn’t, of course, but Bae was with her when she saw Rum tearing at multiple ropes that were being flung around his neck from all directions. He was bleeding.

“NO!” Rum screamed when he saw her. “RUN!”

Belle froze as several men’s eyes turned to her. “Let him go!” she cried, scrambling for one of the guns still strapped to one of their hips, but was immediately restrained by a powerful set of hands that wrenched her arms painfully backward.

Bae roared and lunged for Belle’s attacker, and both Belle and Rum cried out in horror when a gunshot sounded, and Bae slumped to the ground.

“BAE!” Rum yelled, almost in a sob, and jerked at his bonds, sending three men flying to the ground. But four more men lassoed their ropes around his neck and arms, yanking him to the ground.

“What a surprise,” the man holding Belle said, and her heart dropped in instant recognition.

“No…” she whispered.

Gaston turned her roughly around to face him. “The animal man brought his little bitch along. How sweet.”

“How?” Belle breathed. “You were…”

She’d _thought_ Gaston had died that day at the marina when they’d saved Rum from him and Dr. Whale. She saw him get pommeled by the enormous gorilla alpha, King, and Ruby wrote about the Clayton family’s mourning.

“Oh, I was only a tad roughed up that day,” he said, smirking, though now that Belle was looking at him, she could see that he didn’t look the same.

His nose was drastically crooked, and deep scars cut valleys into the left side of his formally _“perfect”_ face. In short, he was no longer as _handsome_ as he once believed himself to be.

“Hands…off…my wife…” Rum growled.

“Whoa oh!” Gaston hooted. “Someone’s learning to communicate in full sentences! And what’s _this_? Did you just say _wife_?” he looked at Belle. “You actually _married_ this creature? Is bestiality legal in this backward country?”

“You’re the only beast I see, Gaston,” Belle spat, jerking uselessly against him. “It doesn’t surprise me in the least that you’re the type of monster that kills magnificent elephants for naught but their ivory.”

“And the thrill of the hunt, of course! But fear not, dear Isabelle. I tire of this godforsaken country. I think it’s high time for me to return home.”

“Good! And good riddance!”

Gaston grinned at her in a way that made her ill, and tightened his grip on her arms. “Won’t you come too? I know your grandmother misses you terribly.”

The sarcastic answer on the tip of her tongue faltered when Gaston released one of her arms to motion to the other men. “Wh…what are you talking about?”

“It’s high time, Belle, don’t you think? But fear not, once I get you home, wedded, and bedded, all of this will be like a bad dream.”

“You’re insane!” she shouted at the same time Rum snarled.

Gaston only shrugged and motioned again, and this time Rum made a bubbling, choking sound that had her fighting like mad to turn around and see. Gaston wrenched her around, and she saw that the men were choking Rum with the ropes, though he fought mightily against them.

“No!” she sobbed. “Stop it!”

“I know he’s tough, but I don’t think he can survive without air,” Gaston said in her ear. “I’ll make them stop. Just come along willingly, and we’ll leave him right where he is, unhurt.”

Belle bucked and fought, but even though she didn’t quite feel the pain of the no doubt bruising grip on her arms, she wasn’t strong enough to break free.

Rum’s eyes didn’t leave hers until they began to roll and he fell to his knees, his face turning a sickly bluish green.

“Stop! Stop it! Please Gaston, I’ll do anything, just STOP!”

The ropes slackened, and Rum lunged forward, more weakly than before but just as furiously.

“Much better,” Gaston said, leading her over to where some more men were bringing a horse drawn cart. “Now let’s go, we have a boat to catch.”

“Not taking her!” Rum spat.

“I’m afraid you don’t get a say, my good man. But don’t worry, I’ll take _good_ care of her.”

Gaston motioned again to one of the men, who raised a gun.

“No, Gaston!” Belle screamed. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

Gaston laughed. “Well, it probably won’t feel good, but the elephant tranquilizer won’t kill him.”

A dart hit Rum in the side of the neck, and Belle watched as he snarled and fought, gradually slowing down until he finally folded over.

“Come on,” Gaston snapped to his men. “Who knows how long that thing’ll last on this _freak_.”

“Rum!” Belle sobbed, terror filling her heart. She kept her word, and didn’t fight, but she continued to scream, hoping somehow Rum could hear her. Hoping _anyone_ could hear her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah....that was angsty wasn't it? Sorry about that, lol. 
> 
> Next week: Rum makes a plan to find his wife.


	3. Bring Her Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum awakens from the tranquilizer and must figure out how to find Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Bonus chapter! I just couldn't bear to leave you all hanging until Thursday :)
> 
> For those of you who are inclined, The Espenson Awards are accepting nominations! I've only just started writing for Rumbelle, so I haven't been a part of this part of the process before, but I was encouraged to put myself out there, lol. If any of you lovely, lovely readers would like to nominate Mnyama for anything, that would be amazing!!!
> 
> Just to help out, some suggestions for categories could be Best Movie AU, Family Fluff, Best AU, Best Courtship, Newbie Spotlight...Best Fic (a girl can dream, lol.)
> 
> Also, my RCIJ Fic, You Really Got a Hold on Me would love some nominations too, :D
> 
> Seriously though, thanks SO much to all my readers for being so encouraging. If I DO wind up in the running, I'll post like, 5 chapters of Uzuri Na Mnyama, back to back as thanks!!!!

Rum struggled to open his eyes, feeling like he did when Maurice had given him that drink that had burned his throat, but had tasted so good he’d had more and more of it until the very earth was spinning.

There was something needling at the back of his blurry mind, something urgent. A rasping breath from beside him brought him slamming back into consciousness and he jolted upright, ignoring the way his stomach lurched.

“BELLE!” he screamed, but the sun was setting. It had been at least an hour since _that man_ had taken his Belle away.

“ _Bloody bastard…”_ he hissed, recalling the phrase Belle had uttered a time or two, before blushing and explaining that it was an impolite thing to say.

Another rattling breath and a small whine caught his attention, and all at once he remembered Bae.

“No,” he whimpered, crawling over to where Bae lay, a pool of blood underneath him.

Bae was still alive. The wound had gone through his side, but he’d bled much while Rum had been asleep.

He could carry Bae to Belle’s father, who he knew would be able to help, but it was a long journey even running unimpeded. If he had to carry him, he wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough, and Bae would be gone before they could get there.

But Rum wasn’t about to let his little one die. He’d once tried to use his blood to save Asani, the Hadithi king, and it hadn’t worked. But Asani had been hurt more seriously, so perhaps this time it could work.

Rum had to try.

He looked around for the knife he kept with him, but it had been lost sometime in the fight. Hyenas were busy feasting on the elephants, but their glittering eyes were glancing up at them suspiciously, so leaving Bae’s side to look for it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Taking a deep breath, Rum bit into his own arm, clamping down until he could taste a steady stream of blood.

“Hold on, Bae,” he said, pressing his wound over Bae’s. After a moment he held his arm up to Bae’s mouth.

It had to work. It _had_ to. But it wouldn’t be instant, Rum knew that much. So he had no choice then but to carry Bae back to the village, or risk catching the attention of the scavengers. But carrying Bae back now would take hours, hours that needed to be spent going after Belle.

It was an impossible choice, one that tore at Rum’s very being. Bae was looking up at him, his eyes saying, “ _go on, leave me here_.” But Rum couldn’t do it. Bae was like his child, and leaving him there, injured…it would be certain death.

Belle wouldn’t want that, so Rum made up his mind.

He hoisted the gorilla up on his back, as he’d done when Bae was little. Bae was much, much bigger now, and although the weight didn’t effect Rum much, the ape’s sheer size made for a difficult trip.

He went as fast as he possibly could, tears blurring his vision when he felt himself getting farther and farther away from Belle. It was like an invisible tie that linked them, and he could feel the strain as they were pulled apart.

His shoulders and back began to burn and strain by the time he was halfway there, and he nearly dropped Bae more than once.

It was morning when he finally reached the village, utterly exhausted, and he stormed right into Maurice’s hut.

“Good Lord!” Maurice exclaimed, rolling out of bed just in time for Rum to deposit Bae right onto it. “What in the world happened?”

“Hunters,” Rum breathed, still winded from the long trek, with whatever that gun had shot him with still making him feel sluggish. “Bae shot. Belle…”

“Belle what?” Maurice demanded. “Where is Belle?!”

“Gaston Clayton,” Rum bit out.

“Clayton?! He’s alive?”

“Yes…he…took Belle.”

“WHAT?!” Maurice thundered. “Took her where?! How could you let this happen?!”

Rum swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “I…”

“How long have they been gone?”

“Clayton…” Rum shook his head, hating how difficult the words were to find. “Clayton shot me...said elephant…trank…”

“Tranquilizer,” Maurice said. “Damn that man! Do you know how long?”

“Yesterday,” Rum answered miserably. “Woke at sunset. Bae was hurt…needed to bring him.”

Maurice sighed, and nodded a bit begrudgingly, expertly examining Bae’s wound. “I understand. You couldn’t very well leave him. Well, he seems stable. I’ll clean and dress the wound. Meanwhile, we need to try and figure out where Clayton would take Belle. I swear if he harms one hair on my little girl’s head…”

“He said grandmother,” Rum said, remembering. “Grandmother misses her, he said. Said he would…” he growled. “Wed her…bed her.”

“Maurice?” Johari called from outside before peeking her head through the curtain. “Someone said they heard yelling.”

“Gaston Clayton is alive,” Maurice spat. “He’s taken Belle!”

“Taken her?! Where?!”

“It seems as though my mother is involved somehow. Rum heard Clayton mention her before he was tranquilized. I assume it means that Clayton plans to take Belle to London.”

“I must stop them,” Rum said determinedly.

“You won’t know which port they will go to,” Johari said. “They could already be aboard a ship.”

“I must _try_!” Rum insisted, marching out of the village toward his house, not bothering to check if the others were following.

Johari had started to trail after him, opening her mouth to speak but it became a startled shout when a lioness charged out of the jungle, skidding to a stop before Rum. He held up a hand to stop Johari from reaching for her dagger. “It is only Mal. She is my friend…she knows where Gaston has taken Belle!”

“How can you know that?” Johari asked, hand still poised at the hilt of her knife.

Rum glared at her. “I _know_. And she can lead me there.”

He hauled himself up into the treehouse, exchanging his loincloth for a wrap that covered more, and grabbed his extra knife.

“I’m coming with you,” Maurice said, following him into the house.

Rum shook his head. “Needed here. Bae needs you. And Belle says Fuli’s daughter has taken ill. Cannot leave them.”

Maurice sighed in frustration. “But Belle is my _daughter_.”

Rum stopped to look at him. “And _my_ wife. I will do anything to save her.”

After a long beat, Maurice nodded. “You’re right, of course. I know you will. But here…you may need something.”

 He began digging through Belle’s desk and making Rum bristle. Belle didn’t like her desk to be disturbed.

“Why would your mother do this?” Rum asked.

Maurice grimaced. “My mother has always been rather controlling. She believes her way is the only way. But I never would have imagined she’d go _this_ far.

“Controlling,” Rum huffed. It sounded like an understatement. “But you sent Belle to her,” his voice was laced with accusation.

Maurice paused in his rifling and looked away. “I don’t regret sending Belle away. At the time, I was only trying to give her her best chance. I had believed that I would bring Belle home long before my mother saw fit to marry her off. I never would have expected her to forge those letters. And now…if she really has orchestrated this kidnapping,” his jaw clenched. “I will never forgive her. But you must understand, Rum, my mother is smart, and cunning. And more than that, she has very good lawyers.”

Maurice pulled out Rum and Belle’s marriage certificate. “I hope it isn’t necessary but this may be of some use if you need to prove your marriage.”

Rum couldn’t even begin to imagine why he would ever need to _prove_ he was married to Belle, but he accepted the paper.

Maurice sighed. “I’m afraid much of the world has not caught up to the ideals and thinking of people like Belle. Women are often treated like property. Things that can be bought and sold. It isn’t always a pretty world out there, Rum. Not for women who know their own mind, and certainly not for people who are different.”

“I don’t need the world,” Rum said firmly. “Only Belle.”

Maurice smiled. “And that, son, is why I know that you’ll find our Belle, and bring her home.”

 

Maurice dug into his possessions to find European clothing from back when he was far thinner. The trousers and button-up shirt had seen better days, and were still much too large for Rum, but suspenders would keep the pants up and a reasonably nice jacket kept him from looking too shabby.

The cloak Johari procured was hardly fashionable, but the draping hood and a pair of leather gloves did a decent job of concealing his features.

“Just keep your head down,” Maurice said. “If you can get to Belle at the shipyard and get out quietly, all the better.”

“You will care for Bae?” Rum asked.

“Of course,” Maurice said. “He already seems to be on the mend. You have money? You might can buy information, or even assistance.”

Rum patted the brown satchel a young Hadithi man had provided. “Everything here.”

Maurice gripped Rum’s shoulder. “You be careful, my boy. And bring my girl home safe.”

Rum met his father-in-law’s eyes and nodded. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Belle tries to plot an escape, and gets a bit of a surprise.


	4. Stowaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gaston board a ship, but Belle comes by a little surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bonus update on Monday threw me off and I forgot my normal posting yesterday!!! The TEA nomination period ends tomorrow, so don't forget to nominate all of your favorites!!!!
> 
> Slight warning in this chapter (and indeed in this story) for Gaston being an absolute CREEP.

Belle had agreed to go willingly, and she would, but that DIDN’T mean she had to be pleasant about it.

“We’ve been riding for hours and I’m bloody SORE, damn it! Let me down, you great arse!”

Gaston released her waist and all but threw her off the horse. She’d been riding in front of him for the better part of three hours and she couldn’t take a single second more of his pawing hands and foul breath in her ear.

“Quite a mouth that one has on her, eh?” one of the other men, who Belle hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, said.

“That she does,” Gaston agreed, as if they were talking about the undesirable attributes of a hunting dog. “Always a bit too free with speaking her mind for a woman, but it seems her language has suffered since residing in this wasteland.”

“Poor thing. A little nurturing should correct that, no doubt.”

“Oh no doubt,” Gaston agreed, shooting her a dark look.

The men he’d been hunting with were all English, and despite their abhorrent hobby, and the fact that they’d been apparently hired to help apprehend her, they all seem to have been led to believe that they were helping Belle. She hated every last one of them, but their presence meant Gaston could not be cruel to her, and she knew now that he wasn’t above it.

“Why are you even doing this, Gaston?” she asked. “Surely you don’t _really_ want to marry me any longer. Not after being with Rum. And know that I’ve been living as his wife in _every_ imaginable sense for longer than we’ve been married.”

She glorified in the scandalized expressions on the other men, and the slightly green one on Gaston.

“Your grandmother has offered me a considerable sum to return you safely,” he ground out. “And more should I marry you and make an honorable woman of you.”

“That miserable old crone,” Belle muttered under her breath before carrying on. “But I’m above the age of majority now, even if my father _wasn’t_ in the picture, which he _is_ ,” she shot a look to the other men. “My grandmother cannot force me to marry no matter which way you look at it. Besides, I’m _already married_. And I do believe my husband would object.”

Gaston slung himself off the horse and Belle took an involuntary step back. “Your marriage to that animal can and will be dissolved easily. As for the rest, I believe the courts will agree that you’re not of a mind to make your own decisions, and it’s in your own best interest to be placed with a husband who can see to you.”

He didn’t let Belle retort before he was picking her up and throwing her back onto the horse, not waiting for her to make herself comfortable before mounting behind her and setting off again. This time, the hand resting improperly low on her stomach pulled backward, so that she could feel his disgusting reaction to her nearness. She struggled, but his hold was like iron.

“ _Please hurry, Rum,”_ she whispered in Swahili. “ _Please hurry.”_

 

By the following morning, they were at a shipyard. Belle hoped against hope that Rum would catch up to them here. She knew that the elephant tranquilizer wouldn’t keep him out for too long, but Bae had been injured, and Belle knew Rum would need to tend to him first. But if Rum went home, he and her father would surely work out that Gaston was taking her to London, and they would come here.

Off and on throughout the entire journey Belle thought she’d caught glimpses of an animal stalking them. If she was right, and she prayed she was, it was a lioness, likely Mal. Mal would be smart enough to remain hidden and not attempt to attack a group of men with guns, but Belle hoped that by following them, Mal would be able to lead Rum to her.

But the ship taking them to England was already about to leave port, and it was a matter of minutes before she was loaded on like so much chattel and stored away in a room below deck. She didn’t even have a porthole to look out of to see if Rum was near, or to call for him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled to herself. “Once I’m in London I’ll get away, or explain to grandmother or the lawyers or whoever, that I’m married and all of this will go away.”

She tried to remind herself that she wasn’t without friends and allies in England. There was Ruby, Jefferson, Mary Margaret, and David. So long as she could manage to get word to any of them, they would help her, and everything would be okay.

She only hoped that she would make the journey in one piece.

As if in answer to her thoughts, the door slammed open and Gaston was there, staring down at her with his cold blue eyes and dropping a bag on the floor.

“Alone at last, my dearest Isabelle.”

Belle jumped up from the bed and moved to the farthest corner of the tiny room. “Stay away from me, you bastard,” she hissed.

Gaston chuckled, and it was an ugly sound. “Oh, I truly cannot _wait_ to beat that filthy whore’s mouth out of you. You’re only lucky that your grandmother stipulated quite clearly that you were to remain unmarred and untouched.”

“Good, then you can just go.”

He approached her slowly, shutting the door behind him. “But you’re already touched, aren’t you? You made that quite clear, before. You’ve been rutting with that creature like an _animal_ for God knows how long,” his face twisted in disgust. “How could you stand it?”

It may have been foolish, but Belle took the gamble that she could disgust him further. “I often _couldn’t_ stand…afterward,” she said, her voice low and lusty, as if remembering. “He loved me like no other man could ever possibly. Over, and over again. Sometimes in our bed, but other times it was as you said, rutting like _animals_ on the Jungle floor…”

“Shut up!” he snapped.

She should have, she knew, but she couldn’t. “So you want his leftovers, is that it? After I’ve been _fucked_ harder than you…”

His hand came as a surprise, and she had no time to dodge as it struck across her face, causing her to fall sideways onto the bed. In an instant he was kneeling over her, grabbing a handful of her hair and wrenching her head backward.

“It’s a good thing we’ve a long journey,” he breathed his putrid breath into her face. “You’ve plenty enough time to heal from any marks I give you now. And I _know_ you can heal quickly.”

His words chilled her to the bone, and Belle thrashed and tried to get her feet under him to kick, but he held her down fast. One meaty hand wrapped tight around her throat.

“I _will_ marry you, Isabelle. Make no mistake about that. And when I do, I’ll teach you the meaning of the word _fuck_ ,” he illustrated by grounding his cock into her hips, and she whimpered.

“Mr. Clayton?” someone called from above deck. “The captain wants a word with you!”

Gaston glanced toward the door, then back at her. “Not so tough now, are you? I suppose I can wait a little longer, but let this be a little taste of what’s to come,” he covered his mouth with hers, and since she’d already been gasping for air she couldn’t stop his tongue from sliding far enough into her mouth to choke her again.

He released her with a shove into the mattress and stood up, adjusting his clothes before leaving without another word. She heard a lock slide into place, and then silence.

For a long, long moment she just lay there, gulping air into her lungs while simultaneously gagging at the sickening taste of Gaston’s mouth. After a time, the gasps became sobs, and she rolled over into a ball, crying for Rum – for anyone – to help her.

 

Belle sobbed until she felt dried up and parched, then she rolled off the bed in search of her canteen, angry at herself for weeping like a maiden.

She found her canteen and chugged greedily, but it was over half empty, and she drained it too quickly. She didn’t see any other source of water, and wondered if Gaston planned to keep her locked in this brig for the whole journey, or perhaps just long enough until she was desperate enough for food and water that she would be more…pliable. She shuddered at the thought, resolving to die before she ever let that vile man touch her without a fight.

There was a shuffling, and a squeaking noise, and Belle grit her teeth. Rats on a ship could carry disease, not to mention they were notoriously brave when it came to biting people.

The noise was coming from the bag Gaston had left beside the door. She hadn’t bothered to look inside, and she certainly wasn’t inclined to now that it appeared to be _moving_.

She held up her empty canteen, ready to clout the seemingly huge rat when it appeared, when instead out popped the furry black head of a little ape.

“ _Austin_?!” she exclaimed, before belatedly covering her mouth when she was far too loud. She continued in a harsh whisper, in case anyone was outside the door listen. “Austin! What the devil are you _doing_ in there?!”

Austin climbed out the bag and scuttled over to her as quickly as he could. She scooped him up automatically, burying her face in his soft fur, preferring the decidedly potent scent of gorilla to the dank, stale smell of the brig.

She thought she’d cried herself out, but fresh tears of both gratitude for the small comfort, and fear for his safety sprung to her eyes.

“You stupid ape!” she cooed, her tone at odds with the harsh words. “How could you stow away?! What if something happens to me?! How will you get home?!”

Austin, of course, didn’t answer, just cuddled into her chest happily. She could scarcely believe he’d gone undetected through the entire ride across the savannah. Did Gaston not notice the extra weight in the bag?

She walked over to said bag and peeked inside. It was full of clothing; a dress, corset, shift, etc. She wrinkled her nose at the thought that Gaston may have picked it all out, right down to the smalls.

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it now,” Belle said, bouncing Austin on her hip like a child. “I’ll have to figure out a way to hide you. God knows what Gaston will do if he finds you here. But never you worry, darling. Rum will save us. I know he will. And then we’ll get you back home to your family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Rum sets sail, and I don't know how to write sea voyages so it gets kinda skimmed over, sorry lol.


	5. Setting Sail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS DID IT!!!!
> 
> I've been nominated for not one, not two, but SIX TEA awards!!!!! Including - get this - BEST AUTHOR!!! I swear I squealed when I read that!!
> 
> Thank you everyone who nominated! Like, at this point I don't even care if I win, being nominated is awesome enough! (That said, I do hope you'll vote!)
> 
> Mnyama has been nominated for Best Movie AU, Best AU, and this series was nominated Best Series! My other Rumbelle fic, You Really Got a Hold on Me was nominated for Best Historical AU and Best Rumbelle Christmas in July. 
> 
> And, as promised, and as my enormous thanks, I now give you 5 chapters!!!!! I hope there aren't too many mistakes, I haven't taken as much time as I usually do editing them because I'm unfortunately sick at the moment. But regardless, enjoy!!!

“It isn’t good news,” Johari said, returning to where she’d left Rum standing in the shadows of a building. “A ship just departed for England an hour ago.”

Rum growled low in his throat, and Johari gave him a warning look. “Was Belle there?” he asked.

“A porter said he saw a brown-haired white woman being led on with a group of men. He noticed because she didn’t look happy. He is sorry now that he didn’t try to stop them.”

Since Maurice was needed at the village, Johari accompanied Rum to the port, to be able to speak with people in order to hopefully locate Belle quietly.

It had been all she could do to keep Rum from charging into the marina, shouting Belle’s name. Mal had led them to the correct port, much to Johari’s skepticism, but Rum trusted the lioness wholeheartedly, and knew of her particular fondness for Belle, which would create protectiveness.

The last time Rum had been in a place like this, it had been _he_ who had been taken against his will, and loaded onto a ship like an animal. It had been a different marina, but the memory made him shudder.

Belle had saved him though, prevented him from being taken away. It had been his turn to save her, and he’d failed.

Rum glanced up from his hood at the rest of the ships in port. “Which one will I take?”

“You are serious?” Johari asked, eyes widening. “You are going to go to England?”

Rum looked at her as if she was being foolish. “Of course I am. I go where Belle goes. I promised her.”

“Yes…but…there are other ways to go about this, Rum. We can send letters to Belle’s friends. They will know how to help her. If you must go, we can return to the village and let Maurice go with you. You cannot go alone, Rum, and I cannot leave my people for so long.”

“I know that. But Maurice is needed there too, and I cannot waste time by returning now. I _must_ get on a ship.”

Johari sighed and rubbed her temples. “That is a problem though. The ship that is carrying Belle was the last destined to England for the next fortnight.”

This time Rum’s snarl was loud enough to startle a nearby woman and her small dog.

“Calm _down_ ,” Johari said, glancing around to be sure no one was paying them too much attention. “There is a cargo ship bound for France. I might be able to get you onto it.”

“But I do not _want_ to go to France,” Rum bit. “Belle is not in France!”

“Will you stop baring your teeth at me and listen? France is nearer to England. From there, you should be able to secure passage easily.”

“But that will take so long!”

“It is the only choice you have! Now wait here, while I go speak with the captain.”

Rum growled again as she turned to go, then went back to facing the wall of the building, so that curious faces wouldn’t try to peek under his hood. He wasn’t angry with Johari, he was grateful to her. In truth, he was simply terrified.

He would go to the ends of the earth for Belle, no question. But he was currently surrounded by more people than he thought he ever had been, and was only going to be among _more_ very soon. People who would take one look at his mottled skin and run for their lives, if they didn’t try to string him up first.

The rising bile of panic seemed never to dissipate, so he just kept trying to imagine that Belle was there, taking his hand and telling him it was all going to be alright.

It seemed an eternity before Johari returned. “The captain agreed to let you aboard. He says you will have to work, but I told him that you weren’t afraid of a little labor.”

“I can do it,” he said.

“I also explained about your physical differences. He didn’t see much affected. And he’s French, so he’ll not have heard of the Mnyama. Try to keep it that way, yes?”

Rum nodded, struggling with all his might to keep from begging Johari to go with him.

But he was a grown man, he could and _would_ save his wife, God help him. And he didn’t need help.

Johari led him to a ship called The Thorn, and introduced him to the captain. The captain peered under Rum’s hood and blanched only momentarily, but said nothing about his appearances.

“You strong? Come on then, I’ll show you what to do.”

 

From the first moment that Rum’s hood blew off his head, the crew aboard The Thorn had cowered back in shock and horror. But it wasn’t long at all before his strength and agility proved very useful, and while he still noticed them staring, they didn’t seem to over-mind his presence.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay on?” the captain asked as they were docking in France. “You would be quite the sailor.”

“No, thank you,” Rum said. He’d managed to cultivate the belief that he was both naturally quiet, (which he was) and that he spoke mostly Swahili, to account for his stilted speech. The scarce phrases he knew in Swahili were enough to convince the men, and it seemed that they believed him to be naught but an African with a strange skin condition. “I need to go to England.”

“Yes, yes,” the captain said, looking at a chart. “There is a small passenger ship setting sail this afternoon. But eh…” he glanced sheepishly at Rum. “They’ll make you ride below deck, you know this, yes?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rum said dismissively, before heading in the direction the captain told him to. He wouldn’t have minded getting to know the captain more. He was a kind soul, and Rum would have possibly enjoyed sailing had it not been for the constant worry gnawing at his gut.

The port in France was small, and the man selling tickets barely looked up from the money being handed him. Rum didn’t wait to be instructed to go below deck, and found himself a nook to hide in, wishing mightily for a tree.

The trip from France to England felt like the blink of an eye compared to that of his journey from Africa, and before he knew it, he was stepping off the gangplank in England. It wasn’t London yet, according to the map the captain had given him, that he struggled to read, but it was close. Very close.

The port in England was much bigger and busier than France or Africa. Rum had never even imagined so many people could be congregated in one place.

His clothing, which had felt suffocating and itchy all this time, now felt like the only thing holding him together.

A head of brown curls caught his attention and made his head snap up. “Belle?” he called automatically.

The woman turned, _definitely_ not Belle, and gasped. “What is _that_?!”

The man beside her looked in Rum’s direction and his face contorted in disgust. “Come, Margaux, get _away_ from him!”

More people had noticed him now, though, seen his features from underneath the hood, and were staring and whispering. What was worse, was there was any number of small, brown-haired, blue-eyed women. None of them were Belle, but he would never have expected for there to be so many that even remotely resembled his Belle. He was so used to her standing out among the richly dark Hadithi.

More and more people were staring now, and Rum felt the beginnings of something he hadn’t felt since he was a small boy; a feeling he’d long forgotten. The feeling of being stared at like he was something other than human.

He fled the port, hoping for the respite of trees, but found only more buildings and houses. The only trees were paltry things growing stubbornly between cobbles.

Eventually though, the buildings fell away and at last he was among nature. It wasn’t a jungle – far from it. But it was trees, and grass, and no people.

It was almost dark, so he found himself a high branch to make a nest in. It smelled strange, but it was sturdy and comfortable. He didn’t _want_ to rest, but he hadn’t truly slept in days, and it was beginning to wear on him.

“Belle,” he whispered, feeling like his heart was being ripped in two at the thought of her being somewhere nearby, at the mercy of that despicable man, but he didn’t know yet how to reach her.

The weeks it took to get this far felt like an eternity. And he had no way of knowing how Belle was, if she was hurt. It was _destroying_ him. And now he had no real idea where he was. He didn’t know how to find Ruby or Jefferson or Mary Margaret and David. He didn’t even have the first idea how to find Belle’s grandmother’s house.

Rum ground his teeth, furious being reason at how ridiculously _helpless_ he was. If he was a normal man, it would be nothing to find Belle’s grandmother’s house, storm in, and demand they release his wife. No, if he was a _normal_ man, Belle never would have been taken to start with. Normal men didn’t go gallivanting out to save elephants because their gorilla son asked them to. A normal man’s claim on his wife wouldn’t be questioned. He would provide for his wife, give her children, make it so that she could live happily and without fear.

Rum was _not_ a normal man, and because of that, his precious Belle had been taken, and a sob tore from his throat at the thought of what Clayton might do to her. What he might already be doing to her.

His one and only comfort was that his Belle was strong, brave, and smart. Much stronger, braver, and smarter than he. She’d stood up to Gaston before, along with Dr. Whale, and an entire herd of men trying to lock him up again and rip away his family.

She had saved him, so it was only fair that he save her now.


	6. Seasick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has a very unpleasant trip to England

The trip was long and arduous.

Never one prone to seasickness, Belle found suddenly that the rocking and swaying of the vessel made her violently ill. Perhaps it was the stuffy brig she was locked in, or perhaps it was the revolting gruel served to her by a well-meaning cabin boy.

Regardless of the reason, Belle could barely keep any food down. At least it meant that she had plenty to share with Austin, but he wasn’t overly fond of it either.

Austin blessedly seemed to understand to hide from everyone that wasn’t her, and from the moment she heard boots on the stairs leading to her door, she could usher him under the bed. The poor little ape fussed and whined, worried about Belle as she hovered over the piss bucket, retching again even though she had nothing left in her stomach.

But Belle found she could hardly regret how wretched she felt, since it was finally something Gaston couldn’t tolerate. After she’d first been sick, he’d taken one step into her room, eyes dark and intent on something, but turned comically green at the smell of vomit and fled like the coward he was.

But the smell effected Belle too, and there was no escaping it.

The cabin boy, a lad of about sixteen years old, would change her buckets, and offer clean water, which was a blessing, but Belle began to seriously wonder if she was even going to survive long enough to make it to England.

After what felt like ten eternities, the sounds above deck changed, and the ship lurched.

She could only lay weakly on the bed and whisper assurances to Austin while they docked. It was some hours before the door opened at last, and Gaston stood there, wrinkling his nose.

“Look at you, you’re a disgrace,” he muttered.

The cabin boy – Paul, if Belle remembered correctly, squeezed past Gaston, holding a large basin of water and keeping his eyes averted from the much larger man.

“Pick yourself up,” Gaston told her. “I can’t bring you to your grandmother like this. You need to wash up and put real clothes on.”

Belle pushed herself up on shaky arms, actually excited to get out of her filthy wrapper and into a clean dress. But she hoped that Gaston wasn’t intent on watching.

“Come _on_!” he snapped, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hauling her upright. He started tearing at the knot holding her wrapper up, and she just couldn’t find the strength to fight him.

“Please sir,” Paul spoke up quietly. “You needn’t bother yourself with this task. The captain will be wanting to see you…I’ll see to the lady.”

Gaston huffed. “Fine. Make sure she’s presentable. Not like she has any shame.”

Gaston left, and Belle sighed in relief.

“So sorry, miss,” Paul stammered, hands moving unsurely toward her wrapper. “I don’t want to do this.”

“It’s okay,” Belle croaked. “I truly don’t think I can do it alone.”

Paul, to his eternal credit, kept his eyes turned dutifully upward as he blushingly undressed Belle like a doll, and helped her to wash. Belle would have been charmed by his shy care had she not felt so ill.

“Not sure what to do with this, I’m afraid,” he said, holding up a corset, feeling more comfortable once Belle was in her shift.

The wash making her feel slightly more alive, Belle smiled and had Paul lace her up in the corset only loosely, since the dress looked plenty big enough, and Belle didn’t think she could tolerate anything squeezing her abdomen.

“And what shall we do about your eh…friend?” he asked, eyes darting toward the space under the bed.

“My what?” Belle squeaked.

“I’ve seen its eyes peering out. I haven’t told anyone. Is it a dog?”

Belle chuckled. “No, I’m afraid not. But he is a little stowaway that I need to figure out how to get off the ship.

“I’ll carry him out in the bag,” Paul offered, placing the satchel that had held the dress on the bed. “There should be a hansom cab waiting for you and Mr. Clayton outside. Think he’ll stay inside if I load the bag up with the luggage?”

“He stayed inside across the savannah,” Belle reasoned. “Come on out, Austin.”

Paul’s eyes went wide as saucers when Austin hopped out from under the bed. “A monkey!”

“Not a monkey,” Belle corrected immediately. “A gorilla. And he’s only a baby.”

Belle placed a protesting Austin into the bag and fastened it tight. Paul took the bag gingerly, staring doubtfully at it before putting it over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Belle said sincerely. “I may not have survived this trip without you.”

“Not a worry, Miss,” he said with a smile. “I hope…well…perhaps Mr. Clayton will be better now that you’re home. I hope he’s a good husband to you.”

Belle glowered. “Mr. Clayton is _not_ my husband, nor will he ever be. I _have_ a husband. And he’s coming for me.”

Paul gasped, but nodded. “Good luck, Miss.”

When he left, Belle didn’t have long to wait until another man came to collect her. He had to support her up the stairs, and Belle could have wept when she saw solid land at last.

“Oh my poor beloved,” Gaston crooned, helping her down the last few steps of the gangplank. “I’ve worried so very much about you. But now we’re home, and you can put this entire ugly business out of your mind.”

If Belle had had anything in her stomach to vomit, she would have liked to do it on his shoes. She could see Paul loading the bag onto the back of the hansom, and thought she saw him roll his eyes.

“Not much farther now, my love,” Gaston continued. “Our married life awaits!”


	7. Runaway Cart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum has an unfortunate run in with police, but then has the opportunity to be a hero.

Rum awoke to the chatter of women below him. Girls, really, giggling to one another as they made their way down the path with baskets on their arms.

Rum waited until they were gone before climbing down out of the tree. There was a sign he hadn’t noticed the night before, that pointed the direction of London. There. Who needed a confusing map?

He found a stream to drink from, but didn’t want to take the time to cook a fish. Since Belle had begun urging him to eat only cooked meat, he’d found he no longer had a taste for raw.

He started following the road the arrow had pointed to, checking his hood every so often that it was down far enough over his face.

When he came past an orchard of fruit trees, his stomach rumbled to remind him how hungry he was.

They were apples, a fruit he had not grown up eating, and they weren’t his favorite, but they would do. He picked two, one for now and one for later, but jumped when he heard someone shout.

“Hey! You! Just what do you think you’re doing?!”

Rum looked up to see a man carrying a plow, heading straight for him.

“Thief! Think you can just steal my apples?”

“S…sorry…” Rum stammered, holding up his hands. That’s when he realized he’d forgotten to don his gloves after drinking from the stream.

When the farmer got close enough to see Rum’s hands and face, his face blanched, and he made a crossing gesture over his chest.

“Demon!” he screamed, running away. “Bertha! Get inside! It’s a demon!”

Rum rolled his eyes and took a third apple.

 

It was a long walk to London, one he sorely wished he could have completed on all fours. But even if he wasn’t worried about attracting too much attention, his cloak and clothing would have made it impossible anyway.

He’d grown more or less comfortable on the road there. It was busy, but the surrounding trees were soothing, even if he wasn’t at all used to being quite so _cold._ But soon the trees became thinner, and before he knew it, he was standing in the most human-populated place he’d ever seen.

It was a veritable _sea_ of people. Everywhere he looked. And he thought the port had been hectic.

Voices, wagon wheels, shouts, horses whinnying…it all morphed together in his ears until it was a solid hum, like a flock of a thousand birds.

The sound he could tolerate, but the smell was something else entirely. It was the worst combination of shit, sour water, and dirty bodies that he could ever have imagined. He’d heard members of the Hadithi complain about the smell of gorilla, but surely if they ever visited London they would change their mind. At least gorillas were civilized enough to keep _their_ shit well away from where they lived. Unless Rum was mistaken, and he didn’t believe he was, there was actual human waste running down the sides of the street.

It was a nightmare. No wonder Belle had been so anxious to leave and never return.

He tried to catch the attention of a merchant to ask if he knew where Doris French lived, but the man wrinkled his nose at Rum’s disheveled appearance and face hidden by a cloak and ignored him completely. Two more merchants behaved much the same way.

How was Rum supposed to find anything or anyone in this mess? It was impossible!

Finally he caught sight of a man in a neat looking uniform. As a rule, Rum didn’t much like a person in a uniform, as it reminded him too much of a doctor, but vague memories identified this person as _police_ , so Rum decided to try asking him.

“P…pardon,” Rum said, using the word he’d heard used several times that day by people getting each other’s attention. “Could you…help me?”

The police officer furrowed his brow, looking Rum up and down. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

“I…need help…finding…sssomeone,” he grit his teeth, incapable of making the words flow as easily as he knew he normally could.

“Could you please lower your hood, sir?” the officer said, suspicion tinging his voice, and making Rum take a step back.

“N…never mind,” Rum said. “I’ll find…”

“Now wait just there!” the officer demanded, and a few people nearby turned to look. “I would ask you to please lower your hood.”

When Rum took another step back, the officer reached out and yanked the hood down. The man’s eyes went round, and his mouth dropped open.

“What is that?!” someone screamed.

“My God! Look at its _face_!”

“He’s hideous!”

Rum stumbled backward then turned to run, the police officer shouting at him to _halt!_ Whatever that meant.

More police must have heard, and Rum found himself weaving around the market stalls, unformed men coming out of seemingly everywhere.

“Get him!” one of them yelled.

Why were they _chasing_ him?! Rum understood that he was a fright to look at, but he hadn’t done anything _wrong_ , had he?

_The world is not a nice place…to people who are different._

Rum hadn’t fully comprehended what Maurice meant until right then.

He swerved around the wheel of a wagon when the first officer caught up to him at last, grabbing his arm.

Automatically, Rum pulled his arm back, yanking the officer off his feet. The man fell back against the flank of a horse, which reared in fright then took off, toting the wagon wildly.

The woman who had been disembarking from the wagon on the opposite side, stumbled and fell, but she jumped up right away with a shriek; “MY SON!”

Rum looked up, and sure enough, a small boy was on the wagon alone as it jolted a lurched down the rocky street.

He didn’t stop to give it much thought; it was his fault, and besides the police all still look more concerned about _him_ than the welfare of a child, so he ran.

After three strides he knew he would never catch up that way, so he tore at his cloak, letting it float away behind him as his knuckles hit the cobblestones.

The horse barreled down the narrow streets, crashing into a flower cart and sending pedestrians diving out of the way. A few brave men tried to push wheelbarrows and such into the horse’s path to stop it, but if that did anything it was frighten the beast even more.

The little boy screamed and lurched around the open bed of the wagon.

The crowd was too thick, and Rum couldn’t keep up, so he leapt onto the overturned flower cart to launch himself toward the roofs of the closely built dwellings. He jumped and slid the way he did in the trees, and picked up his pace when he saw the horse and wagon heading directly for a body of water.

With one last powerful leap, he managed to grab hold of a rope suspended from a rigging of some sort, and swung down to land right in the bed of the cart.

The boy gave him one wide-eyed look before throwing himself into Rum’s arms, and Rum picked the child up and jumped out of the wagon just as the horse reared up at the drop-off to the water.

The wagon snapped around, rolling off the edge of the walkway, and the horse bucked, trying to run the other way but being steadily pulled backward.

Not releasing his hold on the boy, Rum grabbed the bottom of the wagon with one hand, keeping it from falling over. He then pulled the wagon to more stable ground before moving carefully to stand by the horse’s head, whispering soothing noises to calm it at last.

When the horse was finally still, for a moment all Rum could hear was the rapid little heartbeat of the child clinging to him with arms and legs. He looked at the boy’s face, finding wide blue eyes staring at him with a mix of astonishment and awe, but not a trace of fear.

Rum had never actually held a child before, and his warm weight, coupled with the bright blue eyes, gave him a twinge of a feeling he couldn’t name.

But all too soon, he became aware that all was silent, and he slowly looked up


	8. Making a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum finally has allies, and they start making plans on how to rescue Belle.

“Ruby...stop fiddling with your parasol, child. It has a purpose to fulfill and it isn’t going to serve it with you twirling it all around like that.”

Ruby sighed and propped the overly fancy umbrella securely on her shoulder. Ever since she’d returned home from Africa some two years ago, with a tanned face full of freckles, Granny had been mad with wanting to keep her covered at all times while outside, to prevent getting any more.

_Jefferson said he liked the freckles._

Ruby supposed that she should feel lucky to have a guardian who had no interest in marrying her off at 16 to some aging duke, but even Granny’s patience was beginning to wear thin now that Ruby had reached 25.

But there was only _one_ man Ruby had any interest in being courted by, and yet that insufferable fool refused to make his suit formally. And Granny, as anxious as she was for her granddaughter to marry, was not about to encourage marriage to a “philandering dandy with a poor reputation.”

As if called up by her thoughts, the man himself came sauntering up the pathway of the park, his top hat tilted jauntily to the side, with a pipe hanging out of his mouth that Ruby knew full well had nothing in it.

The gleam in Jefferson’s eyes when he saw her told her all she needed to know that running into each other wasn’t a coincidence at all.

“Why, if it isn’t Miss and Widow Lucas! Fancy meeting two such enchanted young ladies here today, and without beaus to accompany them!” he took Granny’s hand to kiss, but she pulled it back before his lips actually touched her glove. Ruby allowed him to linger on hers, however, smirking at him even while inwardly rolling her eyes, until Granny pulled her back as well.

“Good day, Mr. Carrol” Granny sighed, manners overriding her instinct to tell him what she was really thinking.

“And what brings you to Hyde Park this afternoon, Mr. Carrol?” Ruby asked, doing her very best impression of a fluttering debutant, and making Granny glare at her.

“Just taking the air,” Jefferson said, breathing in deep as if to do just that. “Admiring the beauty of nature…but I must say, now that my eyes have alit upon you, I daresay the flowers have lost their appeal.”

“Oh brother,” Granny mumbled.

Ruby curled her lips in to keep from giggling, knowing the two of them would be laughing like fiends over this later on. “How…kind of you to say, Mr. Carrol.”

Jefferson’s smile morphed briefly from cocky flirt to something softer, something that threatened to take Ruby’s breath away, until a cacophony of shouting caught all of their attention.

“What the devil is that?” Granny asked.

“One way to find out,” Jefferson replied, turning on his heel and heading in the direction of the commotion.

Ruby handed Granny the parasol without looking, and ignored her grandmother’s shouts to wait as she followed closely on Jefferson’s heels at an unladylike sprint.

“Bloody hell!” Ruby exclaimed when they emerged into the street just in time to be nearly crushed by a runaway wagon, barreling straight for the water.

Jefferson, having yanked her backward, kept a tight hold on her arm as they followed with the crowd, watching to see what would happen.

“God,” he hissed. “There’s a child on that cart!”

Ruby covered her mouth with her free hand, and shifted her arm in Jefferson’s grip until she had hold of his hand. She could barely stand to watch, but she just _had_ to see if someone would be able to save the boy.

“We have to do something!” she cried.

“But what?”

Movement from above caught their attention, and they both looked up to see what appeared to be a person _leap_ from the building behind them, grab hold of a rope, and swing down right into the cart.

Ruby pulled Jefferson, using both of their uncommon height to muscle their way through the crowd.

“Ruby!” Granny shouted. “Wait!”

Ruby reached back and pulled her grandmother along with her as they made their way to the front of the crowd.

The boy was safe in the clutches of a man, and he was pulling the wagon to steady ground with just _one_ hand.

The crowd had fallen completely silent, stunned by what they were all seeing.

But a cheer lifted up just as the man turned around, and Ruby and Jefferson cried out at the same time;

“RUM?!”

 

“My baby!” the mother sobbed, gently taking the boy from Rum’s arms. “Oh _thank_ you, sir! _Thank_ you!”

“Y…you’re welcome,” he mumbled, intensely uncomfortable with the dozens of sets of eyes on him, even if they _were_ cheering happily.

“Thank you, Bogyman!” the boy piped up.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” the mother stammered. “He didn’t mean anything…we just tell him the story…”

Rum smiled and shook his head. He didn’t know what a Bogyman was, but had a guess, and he wouldn’t fault the child, especially not since he was beaming at him.

“Halt, right there!”

The first policeman, followed by several of his brethren, muscled past the crowd straight for Rum. “You’re coming with me!”

“But why?” the mother cried. “He saved my son!”

“He ran from police,” the man snapped. “And I have mind to find out exactly who at _what_ he is!”

“It looks to _me_ like he’s a hero!”

Rum gasped to hear a sudden, very familiar voice.

Jefferson, followed by Ruby, and an older woman broke free of the crowd.

“Rum!” Ruby exclaimed, crashing into him and throwing her arms around his neck, causing the woman behind her to make an outraged squawking sound. He hugged her back tightly, nearly collapsing in relief that they were there.

“You know this…man?” the police asked.

“He’s a dear, dear friend,” Jefferson replied, thumping Rum on the back. “You’ll have to forgive his behavior. He isn’t from around here.”

“And what is… _wrong_ with him?”

Jefferson scowled. “What a terribly rude question. I have a mind to ask why your nose is ruddy and your hair is thinning, but I am not a rude person. Come now, Rum my boy, you must be exhausted after such a feat. Isn’t London lucky to have a professional acrobat in its midst.”

“Acrobat?” the policeman asked skeptically. “Fine, you may take him, Mr. Carrol, but I will be checking up on him. And I want his name. His _real_ name.”

“Rumford,” Rum answered before Jefferson could.

“And a _surname_?”

“…French.”

“I know the Frenches!” the boy’s mother exclaimed. “Any relation to Doris French?”

“That’s his wife’s grandmother,” Ruby said.

The woman smiled, although it looked a little confused. “Oh…I didn’t know her granddaughter had married already. My mother said Doris placed the engagement announcement in the papers just this morning.”

“What?” Ruby and Jefferson asked together.

Rum growled, then looked at them. “Let’s go.”

He glanced back once more at the little boy and his baffled mother. The boy waved, and Rum gave a little wave back.

 

“Now all of you stop _right now_!”

Even Rum felt compelled to obey this strange woman’s order once they were in the park, away from all the curious eyes.

“You must be Granny,” he said, causing Ruby and Jefferson to snort with laughter.

“And you better not tell me that _you’re_ Belle’s husband!”

“Granny!” Ruby snapped. “I swear, if you’re rude to him I’ll…”

“He was leaping from buildings! He could have gotten himself killed!”

Ruby hesitated, having not expected Granny to choose that to criticize. “He was saving a kid…”

Granny harrumphed. “Well, that’s all well and good. But look at him! He’s dressed in rags! Surely Belle knew to have him looking more kempt to come to London! What,” she turned to Rum. “Were you raised in a barn?”

Rum shook his head. “I was raised by gorillas, in the Jungle.”

“Very funny.”

“Rum, where _is_ Belle?” Ruby asked. “She never let on in any of her letters that you both were visiting!”

Rum’s look darkened. “Belle was taken.”

“Taken?!” the other three all exclaimed.

“Taken where?!” Jefferson demanded. “By who?!”

“Gaston Clayton.”

“ _Gaston_?” Ruby asked. “I thought he was dead!”

“Hold on just one moment…” Jefferson said, darting away.

“What do you mean, Gaston took her?” Ruby continued.

Rum sighed. “Belle and me were trying to help herd of elephants. Clayton was there…drug…drugged me, and took Belle away. He spoke of Belle’s grandmother…so I came here.”

Ruby’s jaw was practically on the ground. “You came here _alone_?”

Rum shrugged one shoulder. “Must find Belle.”

“Got one!” Jefferson exclaimed upon his return. “That woman said something about a newspaper announcement.”

“I didn’t read it this morning,” Granny said.

Jefferson thumbed through the paper to find the social pages. “I’ll be damned,” he murmured.

Rum looked over their shoulders, to see a photograph of Belle and Clayton together, under the bold letters, _Engagement_ _Announcement_.

“I don’t understand,” Rum said, frowning. She was smiling in the photograph. She looked…happy. His heart sank.

“It’s an old photograph,” Ruby explained. “Taken at a ball not long after our graduation from school. Before Belle really knew what a cad Gaston was. Look at this tripe, “ _the Clayton and French families are ecstatic to be able to announce not only the return of their beloved son, Gaston, who was believed to have perished at the hands of savages in the wilds of Africa – but also the joining of Gaston Clayton and Isabelle French in blessed matrimony….”_ Poppycock!”

“Belle _can’t_ marry that oaf,” Granny sneered. “The girl is already married! It’s downright sacrilegious!”

“I don’t think they truly counted on Belle’s husband actually showing up here,” Jefferson said.

Ruby growled. “I swear, if that bastard has laid a single hand on Belle…”

“…I shoot him with my crossbow,” Granny finished.

“How long have you been here, Rum?”

“Only a day,” Rum said. “Went to France, first. Belle was ahead of me by a day, came straight here.”

“So she could have been here for days already,” Ruby groaned. “And we had no idea!”

Jefferson wadded up the paper. “They’ll be wanting to keep her under wraps as long as they can. But you know Doris French would never be able to resist putting the traditional announcement in the post.”

“So what do we do?” Ruby asked.

“Do?” Granny said. “We march this man up to the French estate and let him demand to have his wife back.”

“I’m worried it won’t be that easy,” Jefferson said.

“Why?” Ruby asked. “Rum’s her _husband._ We were both at the wedding.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Now, I don’t know Missus French, but I know her attorney. He serves the Claytons as well and he’s a shark. If they’ve got it in their minds that they can marry Belle to Gaston, they’ll have ways to do it. A marriage in Africa, before a tribal leader instead of a priest…now, I’m not saying it’s right, but they _could_ convince a judge to issue an annulment.”

“An-nul…” Rum began, heart thudding in worry.

“Annulment. It means the dissolving of a marriage, if it can be proven not to be legal. Usually the grounds are non-consummation. That means…”

“I think I can confidently say _that’s_ not an issue,” Ruby told him wryly, and that was enough for Rum to deduce what “consummation” must mean.

“No,” he agreed firmly.

“Still, I think we need to be prepared to have to fight this in _their_ battleground,” Jefferson said. “A courtroom.”

“He may be right,” Granny agreed. “I _do_ know Doris, and I know the Claytons. They are _not_ to be underestimated.”

Ruby growled, and Rum gave her an impressed look. “But that still makes no sense! Sure, maybe they can find grounds for annulment with their fancy lawyers, but Belle is a grown woman! She has to _want_ the annulment, doesn’t she?! And we all know she doesn’t! She was taken against her will for heaven’s sake! How could any of what you’re saying be legal?”

“Maybe it’s not,” Jefferson said, “And it’s definitely not okay. But Ruby…”

“They can convince a judge that Belle doesn’t know her own mind,” Granny finished for him, scowling in distaste. “That she needs someone to be in charge of her care.”

“Ridiculous,” Rum said. “Belle knows mind better than anyone. What is this _court_?”

“It’s where you must speak with a judge, who gets to decide what happens,” Jefferson explained. “And what the judge says, is law.”

“How can I speak there?” Rum asked in frustration. “Look at me!”

Jefferson shrugged. “So what if your looks are an acquired taste? We’ll dress you up, make you presentable, maybe practice a few things to say…and let’s face it, Belle is bound to have _quite_ a few things to say.”

“Need to see Belle _now_ ,” Rum insisted.

“Look, let Granny and me go to the French estate,” Ruby said. “At least that way, we can see that Belle is alright, and what exactly the situation is. Would that be okay, Rum?”

Rum breathed out through his nose. “Very well. Tell her I am here?”

Ruby smiled. “I promise.”


	9. Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle returns to the home she grew up in, and remembers that she isn't so alone there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAIT GO BACK!
> 
> Don't miss any chapters! Go back to chapter 5! I've posted all 5 bonus chapters for the day!
> 
> THANK YOU AGAIN!!!

Belle felt remarkably better by the time they reached the French estate. She thanked her healing abilities for that.

But she was still exhausted and starving, and hated Gaston all the more for not only putting her in this situation to start with, but for making her _anxious_ to get to the place she’d once lived.

Once the wagon stopped, she forced herself not to look too quickly at the bag containing Austin, or offer to carry it.

The servants hurried out to greet them, led by a crying Martha Potts, who disregarded all decorum and flew to Belle, wrapping her up in her broad arms.

“Oh my child, I thought I may never live to see you again!”

In all her terror, anger, and illness, Belle had all but forgotten that Martha would be there. She flung her arms around Martha’s considerable waist and let out a choking sob.

“Oh, hush now, love,” Martha crooned, petting her hair. “Everything will be alright now.”

“Isabelle, really,” Gaston hissed. “This isn’t seemly.”

“Shove it, Gaston,” Belle said, her voice muffled by Martha’s dress.

“Isabelle…”

Belle looked up, feeling suddenly cold. Her grandmother stood on the top of the stairs leading up the house, hands folded primly before her.

She ground her teeth, reminding herself not to simply attack the old woman.

“Martha?” she said quietly. “Do you see that brown bag on top of the luggage?” Martha nodded. “Could you please see to it that it goes directly to my room? Personally, if you would. And do not open it…at least not until you’re in my room.”

Martha furrowed her brow but nodded, and released Belle before barking orders to the other servants to fetch the luggage or start on dinner, but she went straight for the brown bag and picked it up herself.

Satisfied that Austin at least was safe, Belle mounted the stairs to the forbidding house she’d never quite been able to call “home.”

She kept her mouth shut as Doris led them through to the sitting room.

“You’re thin as a rail, girl,” Doris said. “Do they not feed you in Africa?”

“I was quite healthy and hail in Africa,” Belle said with a deliberately snobbish air. “It was Mr. Clayton’s treatment on the journey here that made me quite ill. I was locked away in a filthy brig, with only rotten gruel to eat.”

“I assure you, Mrs. French,” Gaston said. “The food, while perhaps not the most palatable for any of us, was healthy. And Belle was never locked away, why, we couldn’t get the woman to come above deck for anything.”

“She was always dramatic that way,” Doris said.

“It’s not being _dramatic_ to be angry when one is _kidnapped_!” Belle seethed. “Did you really orchestrate all this?! Gaston _kidnapped_ me from my _home_! From my _husband!_ ”

Doris scoffed. “Oh, Mr. Clayton told me in his letters all about the wild man your father allowed you to gallivant about with. I was sickened when I learned of it! Imagine! A woman of your breeding… _fornicating_ with a person who is barely more than animal!”

“It isn’t fornicating when you’re married!” Belle raged. “Rum is my husband! We said vows before witnesses and before God! We _love_ one another!”

“Enough!” Doris snapped, and Belle was actually taken aback, unsure if she’d ever actually heard her grandmother raise her voice. “I already lost my son, I refuse to lose my granddaughter as well. Love means nothing if a man can’t provide for his wife. One day you’ll understand,” she waved at Cogsworth, the butler, who was waiting nearby. “Mr. Cogsworth, please see Isabelle to her room while Mr. Clayton and I have a nice chat.”

Belle clenched her fists, and wondered at how far she would get if she made a break for it. Cogsworth took hold of her arm, and though he was small and portly, he was strong, and she knew that he understood Doris’s unspoken order of _see her to her room…and be sure she stays there._

Once they were at the top of the stairs, Belle ripped her arm away. “I can find my bedroom myself, thank you Cogsworth.”

Cogsworth shrugged, but as Belle walked away she saw him whisper to a younger footman. So she would be guarded, would she?

She let herself into her bedroom with relief, to find Martha inside, looking flustered.

“Oh child! There you are! Heaven knows I should have just kept that bag _closed_!”

“Is he okay?” Belle asked, looking under the bed for her friend. “Where is he?!”

“Up there,” Martha pointed to the top of Belle’s wardrobe, where two eyes were peering down.

“Austin!” she called, opening her arms.

Austin chattered happily and jumped down, landing against Belle’s chest.

“What the devil were you thinking, child? Bringing a _monkey_ here?”

“He’s a gorilla, Martha. An ape, not a monkey. And I didn’t _bring_ him, he hid himself inside Gaston’s bag. I didn’t know he was there until after we were on the ship.”

Martha scoffed. “You expect me to believe an animal hid itself away like that?”

Belle sat on the edge of her bed, cuddling Austin. “They’re highly intelligent creatures. Especially _this_ one.”

“Fine then, but what happens when your grandmother finds out? I can’t imagine that the same woman who wouldn’t let you keep a dog, would let you keep a gorilla.”

“She isn’t going to _let_ me do anything,” Belle said. “I’m a married woman. She can’t tell me what to do, no matter what she thinks.”

“Married?!” Martha exclaimed, grabbing her hand to pull her up into a hug, gorilla and all. “Child! I had no idea!”

“I wrote to you!” Belle said. “Except…oh, let me guess. Grandmother intercepted the letters.”

Martha scowled. “Why that…ohh, I was raised never to bad-mouth an employer but…”

“Bad mouth all you want! She _kidnapped_ me, Martha! Or at least, she hired Gaston to do it. I was happy, living with my husband! Gaston shot him with an tranquilizer and dragged me onto a boat! He and Grandmother have it in their minds that they can annul my marriage and have me marry Gaston.”

“Oh my,” Martha twisted her apron between her hands. “Oh sweet girl, I knew that woman was a vindictive thing, but I had no idea it went quite that far. I had heard that Gaston and most of the rest of the hunting party were killed, and that you were off with some wild man, but I thought it was all just rumors.”

“Not quite,” Belle chuckled. “I thought Gaston died too. He was helping this insane doctor try to capture my husband for experimentation.”

“Ex…experimentation.”

Belle shrugged. “He’s different, Martha. He was abused as a little boy, sold into a medical experiment lab and given drugs that altered his appearance, and made him stronger than a normal person. But he escaped, and was raised by a family of gorillas,” she hefted up the baby in her arms. “This one’s family. But he’s a man, Martha, like any other. And he’s kind, gentle, loving, smart…”

“And you love him,” Martha finished, a gleam in her eye.

Belle smiled. “More than anything in the world. And I know he must be worried sick, he and Papa both. What I also know is if Rum figures out where Gaston has taken me, he _will_ come, I have no doubt. But he’s never been within civilization bigger than a small marina. I’m terrified of what may happen to him here, or during the journey here.”

“What about you?” Martha asked, suddenly worried. “That Gaston, he didn’t…hurt you, did he?”

“No,” Belle shook her head. “I think he might have, but I got horribly seasick. He pretty much avoided me the whole time because of that.”

Martha gasped. “Oh my! And here I thought you were pale from having to confront your grandmother! You must be starving! And I’m sure you’re exhausted to boot. Now, I have a bath already waiting for you, you get in, and I’ll go see what I can find you to eat, hmm?”

“Thank you,” Belle said, hugging her former maid. “If nothing else, I’m glad to see _you_ , Martha.”

“And you, as well, sweet child. Don’t you fret, if that man of yours is like you say, I’m sure he’ll be along any time now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Rum gets a makeover.


	10. A New Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum gets a London makeover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot of plot happening here. Mostly just Jefferson being adorable, lol.

“What are we doing?” Rum groused, trailing behind Jefferson as they made their way down a cleaner, nicer street than the ones Rum had seen so far. It was worse to him though, because where on the poorer streets, people mostly kept their heads and eyes down like him, not paying him much attention. Here, people noticed him and stared, whispering behind fans and gloved hands, even though he’d located his cloak and donned it once more.

“I’ve told you,” Jefferson answered his question patiently. “While Ruby is checking on the situation at the French estate, we’re going to purchase you some new _les vêtements._ ”

“I just want to see Belle,” Rum snapped. He appreciated Jefferson and Ruby’s help of course, and wanted to trust them to know what was the best course of action, but he was worried _sick_ , and could think of nothing but having Belle in his arms.

Jefferson paused in the street and gave him a warm look, patting his shoulder. “I know, friend, I know. But let us help you in this, alright? Besides, think of the grand surprise in store for Belle when she sees you stepping up in a fine new suit, eh? She’ll swoon!”

Rum quirked an eyebrow. “Swoon?”

“Go weak at the knees, faint,” Jefferson said. “By the by, I meant to tell you earlier just how well your English has progressed. When this is all over, we should sit and have a nice long chat, you and I. I know you must have the most incredible stories to tell.”

“I’d like that,” Rum said sincerely. He’d forgotten what a pleasant companion Jefferson could be…when he wasn’t being frustrating.

“Ah, here we are,” Jefferson said, stopping before a dwelling Rum could now identify as a _shop_. “They know me here. Come along.”

A little bell chimed when they opened a door, and a short, round man turned toward them with a friendly expression until it fell. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Splendid to see you, too, Leroy!” Jefferson exclaimed, spreading his arms.

“Be _nice_ , Leroy,” a second man, who looked much like the first, warned. “Mr. Carrol is one of our best customers.”

“But he’s still a madman,” Leroy grumbled, and if Jefferson heard, he pretended not to.

“I come not for myself today, but for my dear, dear friend,” Jefferson said, indicating Rum, who had remained turned toward the large window, keeping his hood down low. “He’s only just come to this country, and is in dire need of a new wardrobe. Charge everything to me!”

The second, friendlier man, approached Rum, eyeing the cloak a bit nervously. “Good afternoon, sir! My name is Mr. Clark. If you could just step over here, I’ll take your measurements.”

Not sure what _that_ meant, Rum followed Mr. Clark farther into the shop, where a small pedestal was set up, surrounded by mirrors. At the sight of the mirrors, Rum took a hasty step back.

“No need to fear, Rum,” Jefferson said. “Mr. Clark just needs to see what size clothes you should wear. The ones you’re wearing are far too big.”

“If I could just take your…um…coat, sir?” Mr. Clark said, holding out his hands.

At Jefferson’s nod, Rum shrugged off the cloak, watching Mr. Clark’s eyes widen in shock. This time, it was he who took the step back.

“Jesus Christ,” Leroy muttered from where he stood off to the side.

“As you can see,” Jefferson broke into the stunned silence. “My friend’s handsomeness can be _quite_ attention grabbing. But don’t stare too much, we wouldn’t want it to go to his head!”

Rum shot his friend a wry look as Clark shook himself and led Rum to the pedestal, shaking slightly.

“He’s a married man, however,” Jefferson continued on gleefully. “To quite possibly the most gorgeous woman in history, not to mention most ferocious, so he has no need, nor desire for the attention of lasses. To that end, we were thinking perhaps _un costume_ that would keep him from being too conspicuous.”

“Of course,” Mr. Clark said, flustered, as he tried to get Rum to hold still.

Rum held out his arms as directed, but was didn’t like that he couldn’t see exactly what Mr. Clark was doing with that yellow rope.

After being _measured_ , Mr. Clark and Leroy brought out an assortment of trousers, vests, shirts, jackets, and things Rum had no name for. He stood quietly as Jefferson made selections, but scowled and fidgeted while they made him put on and take off different clothes, like one of the dolls the little girls in the village played with.

Even though all of the clothing looked identical to Rum, the other men spoke of things like fit, color, and fabric.

In the end, Jefferson selected a dark gray suit, with a burgundy vest, and a cream colored _cravat_. Rum despised the cravat instantly, feeling like it was going to choke him to death, but Jefferson insisted it was _just the thing_. Whatever _the thing_ was.

“My cloak?” Rum asked.

“Hm, we could get you a cape if you wish, but the spooky vampire cloak is not in fashion at _all_ ,” Jefferson said. “It’s only _drawing_ attention at this point.”

Rum sighed. “What about my _face_?”

“Yes, yes, Rum, we _know_ how lovely you are. See gentlemen? I told you his looks would go to his head. No, I think what you need is one of _these_ ,” with a dramatic twirl, Jefferson produced a hat just like his. “This with your high collar will be enough to shield you from all but the most curious of eyes. And really, it isn’t as though you have anything to be ashamed of.”

This last part was said with such a fond sincerity, that Rum couldn’t help but smile. He even allowed Jefferson to pull his hair back with a leather chord, muttering something about not subjecting Rum to a _barber_ just yet.

“We need just _one more thing_ ,” Jefferson said, tapping his chin. “Gentlemen, have you any canes here?”

“The fashionable kind, or the functional kind?” Leroy asked.

“Functional, but fashionable as well, if you have it.”

Leroy disappeared, and returned carrying a few sleek wooden sticks. Jefferson selected the shortest one, with a shiny golden handle and offered it to Rum. “I noticed you’ve a bit of a limp,” he said quietly. “This may help. Hold it on your good side, a lean on it when you need to step with that foot.”

Rum took the cane, testing the way it felt in his hand, before taking a step the way Jefferson instructed. It felt awkward, but less painful, and Jefferson said that with practice it would get easier. It had been difficult to keep upright for so long, his back and bad leg protesting with every step, but he’d been determined to at least _walk_ like a man if he couldn’t look like one.

To Rum’s surprise, the constant stares from people on the street all but went away as they left the shop. In his new clothing, people didn’t give him a second glance. Or rather, most didn’t. A few still had to do a double take upon passing him, and children stared in either fear or awe, but it was nothing like before.

“See?” Jefferson said, reading Rum’s expression easily. “Clothes make all the difference. Now come, we still have a bit of time before meeting Ruby. Fancy some lunch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Belle gets a visit from Ruby.


	11. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is visited by Ruby and Granny, and is given hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently working on a few revisions to this, nothing major, but it along with normal work and day to day life MAY slow down updates temporarily. Just be assured it's coming! 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who voted in the TEAs, results will be posted on the 12th! Fingers crossed!

Belle had often felt trapped during her life in England. She’d felt freer at school, despite the rigid schedules and countless rules, but even though she had less demanded of her at home, the house her grandmother lived in had always felt like a prison.

Though she’d ostensibly been given free reign at the house, she’d been _watched_ so carefully. Every book she picked up, every bite of food she put in her mouth, every step she took in the garden, it was monitored relentlessly by Grandmother and her many eyes about the house. There were no ‘inappropriate’ books in the house, scarcely any at all, so that wasn’t a problem. But if she ate a bite too much, or slouched in her seat, or went outdoors without enough covering, Doris would materialize as if from nowhere to make sure she knew just how wrong she was.

And now, it truly was a prison, even more than ever before. Martha made sure she (and secretly Austin) had everything she needed, from her favorite foods, to new books. It was a gilded cage, to be sure, but a cage nonetheless, as Belle wasn’t permitted to leave.

Stepping out of her room meant that every move was carefully watched by her grandmother and servants alike, just like before. Only now, it was when she tried to casually drift toward the door, someone was there, being overly pleasant when they asked “anything you need, Miss?”

She tried to give Martha a letter to Ruby, even taking care to put nothing in it except for pleasantries, knowing Ruby would read between the lines, but the letter had been confiscated and Martha soundly reprimanded. After that, Belle refrained from seeking her beloved maid’s help, because as willing as she was, if she was caught, she would be fired, and then Belle would be truly alone.

Belle tried once to escape in the night, taking Austin with her in the bag, but a male servant she’d never seen before, a large, intimidating man, caught her and all but dragged her back to her room.

But other than that, at least, Belle was more or less ignored. Doris was busy planning a wedding and conferring with her lawyer, and Gaston was off celebrating his triumphant return, and presumably enjoying an extended bachelor party.

The trickiest part of her confinement was Austin. The poor baby was going absolutely stir crazy. She didn’t really care what he chose to destroy in her bedroom (as long as it wasn’t her books,) but it was getting harder and harder to keep him quiet. And after Doris had wrinkled her nose at Belle and commented on her smell, Belle had to start taking pains to keep Austin bathed, and herself as well for that matter.

Martha, bless her soul, helped in every way she could, and had even smuggled in some children’s toys to occupy him. But the simple matter was Austin didn’t belong cooped up in a house any more than Belle did. They needed to get _out_.

“You aren’t going to like this,” Martha said one morning, holding that day’s social pages from the paper.

“Don’t tell me,” Belle groaned, already having a suspicion. “Ugh! That picture is ten years old!”

Belle knew the engagement announcement was coming. Lord knew Doris wouldn’t be able to resist. Now the whole city would think she was marrying _Gaston_. “At least maybe it’ll get my friends’ attention,” she said.

Sure enough, later that afternoon, Belle heard voices. Raised, but not in anger, so she tip-toed out to investigate.

“I’m sorry, ladies, Miss French is not accepting visitors at this time,” Cogsworth was saying, his nose up in the air.

“She’ll see _me_ ,” the visitor said, with unnecessary volume, and Belle would know that voice anywhere.

“Ruby!” she exclaimed, thundering down the steps, skipping the last two altogether.

“Belle!” Ruby cried, shoving past Cogsworth and throwing her arms around Belle’s waist, lifting her into the air. “I’ve missed you SO much!”

“I’ve missed you, too!” Belle exclaimed, choking up. “Granny!” she released her best friend only to embrace the woman who had been more a grandmother than her _actual_ grandmother.”

“Look at you!” Granny said. “You’re too skinny!”

“I missed you, too, Granny,” Belle giggled.

“Miss French,” Cogsworth sneered. “I must protest. Your grandmother specifically said…”

“Oh, Doris isn’t here,” Belle said dismissively. “She’s out cavorting with her society bitches.”

“ _Miss French!”_

Belle smirked at Ruby and Granny. “Sorry, it’s just that I love doing that to him.”

“Fine by me,” Granny sniffed, leading them to the parlor while Cogsworth had an apoplexy.

“Belle what…” Ruby began, trailing off when Belle widened her eyes, and glanced over at the large male servant stationed in the corner of the parlor. Ruby grimaced and continued. “Granny and I read of your engagement this morning…you didn’t tell us that you’d returned!”

“Oh, you know how it is,” Belle waved a delicate hand. “Kidnapped, locked in a brig, dragged halfway around the world. I simply didn’t have the time to keep up with correspondence!”

The servant narrowed his eyes, but Belle narrowed hers back.

“Are you okay?” Ruby asked quietly. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

Belle shook her head, losing her biting sarcasm to the engulfing relief at having her best friend with her. “No. Doris more or less paid Gaston to kidnap me. She’s convinced she can have me marry him. She’s been speaking with her lawyer all week about having my marriage annulled. They seem to think it will be an easy matter. But they’re delusional if they think that I’d go through with this without a fight.”

“Of course not,” Granny tutted. “It’s insane. That old woman deserves to be locked up. But are you _sure_ you’re well? You’re awfully pale.”

Belle shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve been sleeping well, and ever since the voyage here, my appetite has been a bit up and down. But I have my maid, Martha, and she’s taking care of me.”

“Small mercies,” Granny said.

“Well,” Ruby patted her knees and leaned forward, the way she did when she had exciting gossip to share. “This is all very interesting, but let me tell you what happened in town this morning!”

Belle cocked an eyebrow at the sudden change in subject but nodded her on.

“Granny and I were strolling in the park when we ran into Jeffer…er, Mr. Carrol. He’s doing well, by the way. Well, we were chatting when we heard a commotion, and you’ll never _believe_ what we saw!”

Belle smiled fondly. She’d missed her friend’s way of relating exciting stories. She could make even mundane gossip sound like an epic. “What did you see?”

“A runaway horse and wagon! With a little boy on it! But that’s not the amazing part. The boy was saved!”

“That’s…good, but what…”

“Saved by a flying wild man!”

Belle froze. “ _What_?”

Ruby grinned wolfishly. “It’s true! Granny was there too, weren’t you?”

“It’s true,” Granny said, nodding. “I wouldn’t believe it myself, had I not seen it with my own two eyes. He swooped down and saved the child and horse both. Quite a feat of strength.”

“He was quite unusual looking,” Ruby continued, still grinning broadly. “But with the loveliest eyes…”

The tears Belle had managed to hold back before returned, and she swiped at them before the servants could see. “That’s incredible!” Belle managed. “W…where is the hero now?”

“Oh, he’s around,” Ruby said. “I think I heard him say he was here to visit someone. Jefferson offered to take him to lunch.”

“That’s wonderful,” Belle said, beaming.

“Miss,” Martha called from the doorway. “Your grandmother should be back any time now…”

“You should probably go,” Belle said.

“Hm, yes, I’m sure you have lots of wedding planning to do,” Ruby scoffed.

Belle walked them to the door, watched closely by Cogsworth, who was still red in the face. She wrapped her arms around Ruby’s neck, hugging tight.

“Give this to Rum for me,” she whispered in Ruby’s ear, before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Everything will be okay,” Ruby whispered back.

Belle clutched her locket tight in her hand as she watched them go, hope fluttering in her chest. Though she’d believed all along that Rum would come for her, knowing for sure that he was _there,_ in London, so near to her, made her want to weep with joy. But also with fear...fear of what the world would do to Rum once they knew of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Rum meets up with some more old friends


	12. Is it a Deal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum, Ruby, and Jefferson go to David and Mary Margaret for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the super late posting! Life and whatnot. We're about half-way through this fic!

Rum had huffed and dragged as Jefferson pulled him into something he called a _pub_ , but the moment the food was set before him, he couldn’t resist wolfing it down.

“Slow down,” Jefferson chuckled.

“S’ good,” Rum said in defense before taking a generous swig of beer.

By the time they were nearly finished, Ruby and her grandmother walked in, and Rum almost turned over his beer stein in his rush to stand.

“Belle??” he asked urgently.

“She’s fine,” Ruby said placing her hands on his shoulders and guiding him to sit once more. “Well, maybe “fine” is pushing it. She’s as angry as a bag of cats, and doesn’t look to be getting a lot of sleep, and Doris’s staff is keeping her under lock and key, but she said that Gaston never harmed her.”

Rum slumped in relief, though the thought of his Belle being locked up was as abhorrent to him as the thought of being locked up himself. And he didn’t quite know what Ruby meant by not looking to be getting sleep, and that worried him.

“I can go get her now,” he said, half in statement, half in question.

“You’d have to basically kidnap her back,” Ruby said. “And by that I only mean Doris has tons of servants, particularly this one who probably doubles as a hitman. I don’t doubt you _could_ fight them all and get Belle away, but then they could call the constable. With Doris’s influence, she might even go so far as to have the borders blocked, making it hard to get out of Europe. And then you’d be a fugitive…”

“If that is what it takes,” Rum sneered. He couldn’t care less if he or Belle ever saw this godforsaken land again.

“But you must think of the future,” Jefferson pointed out. “True your Belle has no love for England now, but do you really want to cause her never to be able to return? Perhaps it’s selfishness on our part, but I think I can speak for all of Belle’s friends when I say we want you to be at least _capable_ of returning. And perhaps you may want to eventually teach your children of their heritage. I understand you came from Scotland, didn’t you?”

“I come from Africa,” Rum corrected. “For as much it as matters. But…you are right. I don’t want to fight for Belle’s freedom, only to take one away from her. So how do we do it _your_ way?”

“You need a lawyer,” Granny said. “A good one.”

“Where do we find one?” Ruby asked Jefferson.

Jefferson hummed, tapping his chin. “I don’t know any…any _reputable_ ones anyway. But perchance do you think your other friends might?”

“Mary Margaret!” Ruby exclaimed suddenly. “And David! Oh hell’s bells, they’ve probably seen the society pages by now. But David…he probably knows a good lawyer. We should go see them! Rum?”

Rum blinked at her, and Jefferson nodded. “This _is_ your family, Rum, for all that we love Belle, too. The final decision _should_ be yours.”

Rum sighed. Every instinct in his body was howling at him to just go, tear down the walls of that manor, and get Belle back to his side where she belonged, and let _her_ decide what should be done. But he trusted these people, and knew that they did, indeed, love Belle almost as much as he. So he nodded, and they stood to go.

“Oh! Belle asked me to give something to you!” Ruby exclaimed.

Rum’s heart leapt, and he looked at her hands, expecting a letter or such. But Ruby leaned over to give him a tight hug, and a warm kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sure she would have passed along a bit more had she been able, but the process of receiving and passing on such a message may have gotten a tad awkward,” Ruby teased, earning an elbow in the side from Granny.

 

Tired from the already very long day, Granny parted ways with the others to return home, charging Rum with chaperoning her granddaughter and her would-be beau. Rum didn’t quite understand what all that meant, but he agreed regardless.

“I like the look, by the by,” Ruby said, eyeing Rum up and down appreciatively.

“Remember, he’s a married man, my dear,” Jefferson said, smirking at Rum. “See, my good man? This is what we talked about in the tailor’s shop.”

Rum remained behind Jefferson’s considerable height when they rang the door to an intimidatingly large house.

“Is this what Belle’s grandmother’s house is like?” he asked quietly.

“This is small compared to _that_ ,” Ruby said.

A pleasant looking maid answered the door and showed them in, excusing herself to announce them.

A butler offered to take their coats and hats, his eyes bulging when Rum handed off his.

The maid returned within moments to lead them into a _parlor_ , and Rum couldn’t help but gape at how rich and ornate everything looked. He’d heard about homes like this, both from Belle’s own stories and the books she read to him, and walking in to one felt like walking into a novel.

David and Mary Margaret were already sitting in the parlor, and Rum noticed immediately that Mary Margaret had yet to have her child.

“Ruby!” David exclaimed. “Jefferson! What a…is that… _Rum_?!”

Rum gave a shy smile as David rushed to him, embracing him with several strong slaps to the back. “I can’t believe this! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Rum come here!” Mary Margaret called excitedly. “I’d stand to greet you, but I’m on doctor’s orders to stay off my feet.”

Rum grinned and knelt before her, wrapping her up in a hug made difficult by their positions and her protruding belly.

“Little one coming soon?” he asked.

“I sure hope so!” Mary Margaret laughed. “The doctor said he or she is healthy, but they’re taking their time in coming!”

“What brings you here?” David asked as Rum stood, only to be guided to a chair beside Mary Margaret. David sat on the sofa beside his wife, and Ruby and Jefferson took the matching one across from them. “Not that we aren’t thrilled, of course. But where’s Belle?”

“I take it you haven’t seen the society pages,” Ruby droned.

“What?” Mary Margaret asked. “No. David doesn’t read those, and I’ve been getting headaches that keep me from wanting to read. What happened?”

Rum allowed Ruby and Jefferson to relate the tale, watching David and Mary Margaret grow more shocked by the moment.

“That son a…” David cut himself off.

“Don’t give him too much credit,” Rum said, speaking at last, and causing David and Mary Margaret to give him twin expressions of surprise by how his vocabulary had improved over the years. “It was Belle’s grandmother who hired Clayton to take Belle. _And_ to marry her.”

“But she’s already _married_ ,” Mary Margaret said. “We were all at the wedding and can attest to the fact. And her husband is right here! I don’t see what the problem is.”

“We’re just trying to get Belle out of this with as little bloodshed as possible,” Jefferson said. “We don’t want Rum cast in a bad light. He’s already had one run-in with the constable so far, for nothing but looking different. Doris is going to try to use Rum’s background, and the location of the wedding, and the “ _negro”_ who officiated as grounds for annulment.”

David groaned. “And the grand judge is notorious for thinking women don’t know their own minds. Clayton will be able to convince him that he knows what’s best for her, and the fool may agree.”

“So we need a lawyer,” Ruby said simply. “Just so we can have our backs covered. We were hoping you knew someone.”

“I think I know just the man,” David said. “He isn’t the most…er… _respected_ of solicitors, but that’s only because he isn’t subjectable to bribes or threats. And he doesn’t play the games of society the way the other lawyers do.”

Mary Margaret groaned. “You don’t mean…”

“I do,” David chuckled. “He’s conniving, can talk circles around you for days, and can lie his way out of anything. But he’s also brilliant, and once he takes your case, you can trust him completely.”

“Do you think he’ll take on Rum’s case?” Ruby asked.

“I think Rum is _exactly_ the kind of case he would want.”

 

David made some enquiries, and they were set up to meet with the solicitor the following day, much to Rum’s annoyance.

“No,” he said firmly. “I am not leaving Belle in that house another night.”

“She’s perfectly safe, for now,” Ruby reasoned. “Doris’s stringent propriety won’t allow Gaston within a hundred feet of her, unchaperoned. As for the rest, other than being upset, she’s alright. Her maid, Martha is busy doting on her.”

“It’s probably best if we take this through the right channels,” David agreed. “It’s already past supper time, and the solicitor is going to meet us first thing in the morning. Wouldn’t it do to get a good night’s rest, and put our best feet forward  tomorrow?”

Rum glanced down at his feet, but Jefferson clapped him on the back before he could ask.

“What do you say, my good man, come get some shut eye at my abode?”

“Why don’t you all just stay here?” Mary Margaret asked. “It’ll be so late by the time you all get home, and we have more than enough space.”

“I’ll send word to Granny,” Ruby said quickly, running to do just that.

“Okay with you?” Jefferson asked Rum, who shrugged indifferently. “Think we can get Rum a tub?” he asked David. “I’m not entirely sure _what_ it is about him that manages never to smell foul, but I think a good wash up wouldn’t be amiss.”

“I’ll have the maids fix him up,” David said.

Once he left, Jefferson turned to Rum and placed his hands on his shoulders, leaning down close. “I get it, okay? This goes against every heroic instinct within you. If Belle was in some sort of trouble in the Jungle, it would be a matter of course that you would swing off to save her, as she would you. But this is an entirely different sort of jungle, Rum. With entirely different animals.”

“I _know_ ,” Rum sighed. “I know you are probably right. It just…hurts.”

Jefferson smiled fondly and ruffled Rum’s hair. “Love usually does, doesn’t it?”

 

Rum was no stranger to bathing in a tub. It was one of the few luxuries that Belle was quite determined to have when they were building their home. The large copper tub had been incredibly difficult to bring up into the treehouse, and heating the water to fill it was a serious chore, so much that Belle only tended to indulge once or twice a month, bathing in the river most days like Rum. But Rum enjoyed watching her splash about in her bath, bubbles coating her skin. She sometimes coaxed Rum to join her, and either way, Belle’s bath time almost always led to _more_.

The times he joined her bath, he’d always been too preoccupied with her soapy, naked skin to care one way or the other about the warm water, but sinking into a hot tub himself made him rather understand why she loved it so much.

The heat of the water soothed the soreness gained from days of walking in a way that was unnatural to him. But as much as his body would have liked to soak until the water went cold, he only indulged for a few moments until he hurriedly scrubbed his skin and hair, unable to do anything but wish Belle was with him.

He made a vow that he would see to it that she had more baths to enjoy; as many as she wanted. She asked for so little anyway, and it was one of the few things he _could_ provide for her.

“Knock knock,” Jefferson called out just as Rum was standing from the bath. Unnecessarily, since he barged right in anyway.

Rum grabbed for a towel to cover himself, earning a wry look from his friend.

“Have you completely forgotten that you didn’t even _believe_ in clothes when we first met? I’m afraid you have no secrets, my friend.”

Rum chuckled, but tied the towel around his waist anyway. “Habit.”

“Everybody decent?” Ruby called, sauntering in.

“You all teach me privacy, then ignore the lessons you taught,” Rum droned.

Ruby giggled. “I’m really liking this new Rum. Sarcastic and articulate. I can only imagine that Belle thought she was in heaven when she found out that was hiding within the stoic, silent wild man she fell for.”

“Well, I did learn from the best,” Rum shot back.

“I’m telling Belle you said that,” she produced a pair of scissors. “Now, let’s see what we can do about that hair.”

Rum took a step back, putting a hand on his head as if to protect it. “What do you mean? Belle likes it long.”

“I won’t cut it _off_ , just trim it. Clean it up a bit. So you can look all debonair to meet the lawyer tomorrow. And I won’t lie, I’m trying to get you all spiffed up so Belle can flip her lid when she sees.”

Rum plopped down on a stool with a sigh. “Fine.”

True to her word, Ruby only snipped the frayed ends off his hair, before applying some sort of oil to the strands that made his curls gleam.

“There,” Ruby said, tugging on a lock. “Very handsome.”

“Thank you,” Rum said.

Ruby leaned down to where he was sitting. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Let us try this, and I promise, if it doesn’t work, or something else goes wrong, Jefferson and I will help you do it _your_ way. Is it a deal?”

Rum smiled. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Everyone who has commented their undying hatred of Doris will hate her a whole lot more...


	13. Never Forgive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over on Tumblr I asked which fic I should update, this one or Petticoat of Arms, while I'm lying here sick as a dog. They both won! So, enjoy your bonus chapter!!!

“I heard you had visitors today,” Doris said as Belle tried to sneak past the parlor to fetch a late night snack.

Belle rolled her eyes, feeling all of thirteen years old as she trudged, bare-footed, into the parlor. “It was only Ruby and her Granny. Did you honestly expect them _not_ to come by after seeing that ridiculous newspaper announcement?”

Doris set down the tea she was drinking hard enough a little splashed over the rim. “It isn’t ridiculous. Mr. Clayton’s return needed announced as well, and it seemed the perfect time. I suppose you’ll want that Lucas girl in the wedding.”

Belle clenched her fists in the folds of her dressing gown. “She _was_ in my wedding, Grandmother. To my husband. Rum.”

“En _ough_ , Isabelle,” Doris sighed. “I know fine well you’re upset, I just wish you would see that I only have your best interests at heart.”

“No, you have _your_ best interests at heart! This is nothing but a grab for attention from those horrid society women. A way to boost your own status. It’s absolutely insane!”

“You will not speak to me that way! I am your grandmother and I deserve respect! I raised you, for Heaven’s sake!”

Belle shook her head, trying very hard to remain civil. “Respect is something you earn, Grandmother. Not something that should just come automatically. You _are_ my grandmother. You gave my father life, and therefore me, and for that I’m glad. But you hardly _raised_ me. I was raised by my parents before being brought up in a school.”

Belle was tempted to throw the fact that it had been Martha that had done all the nurturing during her formative years, but thought it wise to keep her maid’s name out of this particular argument.

“Oh?” Doris sniffed. “And who paid for that school, hm? I could just have easily sent you to one where you never would have had the intellectual education that you received at Mill’s. Who bought you all the books? Who saw to it you have anything your heart could desire on Christmas? But it’s never enough, is it? It wasn’t enough for your father, and I lost him to _that_ woman. But I refuse to lose you, too!”

For a long moment, Belle couldn’t think of what to say. “You didn’t lose Papa to my mother,” she said quietly. “He was gone long before he even met her. You wanted him to fit into the mold _you_ had set for his life, and he didn’t want that. You say you bought us everything we wanted, and you did. You provided much for me, and for that, I _am_ grateful. But you gave me things, when all I really needed was support, and freedom to be myself. That was why Papa left, but it isn’t why _I_ left.”

“Oh, then why did you?”

Belle chuckled sadly. “I _never_ belonged here, Grandmother. I never did, and I never will. I can never fit into that mold of yours, even if I wanted to. You’re afraid to lose me but…but you never _had_ me. Not really.”

“So, you just assume live in the wild and die of Malaria?”

Belle shrugged. “We can all die at any time for any reason. So doesn’t that mean we should live our lives to the fullest while we can?”

Doris stared into her lap for a long time, and Belle hoped that at _last_ she had reached her. Until…

A crash, followed by a high pitched scream, had both Belle and Doris on their feet immediately.

“Oh no…” Belle whispered, running for the stairs, her grandmother hot on her heels.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Austin was careening down them, pursued by one of the maids and Cogsworth, who was wielding a fire poker.

“It’s headed for the kitchen!”

“Get it!”

“What is going on here-EER?!” Doris demanded, trilling up at the end when Austin leapt off the banister, using her head as a halfway point before hopping to the floor.

“Don’t worry, Mistress, I’ve got it…” Cogsworth said, raising the fire poker.

“NO!” Belle exclaimed, as Austin turned tail and fled into the parlor. “No! Don’t hurt him!”

Everyone followed the little ape as he went wild through the house, knocking over vases, tables, paintings. Inside the parlor, he jumped onto mantle, beside the urn that contained Belle’s grandfather’s ashes.

“Austin!” she cried. “Don’t!”

But Cogsworth swung the poker at Austin, and when he tried to flee, he knocked into the urn, sending it crashing to the ground in an explosion of ash.

Belle skirted the mess and snatched Austin up by his arm, cradling him to her chest.

For a long beat, no one moved, and Doris only stared at the ashes on the rug, her face turning an unsettling shade of red.

“Isabelle Jane French…” Doris breathed. “Just what… _is that_?!”

“He…he stowed away on the ship here,” Belle said fearfully. “I didn’t want to bring him! Please he…he’s only a little wound up from being cooped up too long…”

“Cogsworth,” Doris snapped. “Take that _disgusting_ beast outside and get rid of it.”

“Release it?” Cogsworth asked.

“No, you fool! We can’t let a rabid animal like that loose in London! _Shoot_ the blasted thing!”

“NO!” Belle sobbed, turning her body as if to shield Austin. “I won’t let you! He’s just a _baby_!”

“Honestly, Isabelle,” Doris sighed. “First that wild man, now you’re treating a disease riddled _animal_ like a child. Clearly you can’t be trusted to think clearly, anymore. You’ve completely lost your senses! You’re lucky an upstanding man like Mr. Clayton even _wants_ to marry you! Although I believe we’ll keep _this_ shameful display to ourselves. I promise, one day you’ll thank me. Cogsworth…”

Cogsworth stepped forward to take the gorilla, and Belle shoved him with her shoulder, knocking him off his feet and making for the door.

“Samson!” Doris called, and the tall, frightening “servant” was in the doorway, blocking her path. “Samson, restrain her. She’s going to hurt herself.”

Samson made to grab her and she pulled violently away. “I WON’T LET YOU HURT HIM! I WON’T!”

“You’re embarrassing yourself!” Doris yelled. “Just hand it over, and I’ll make sure they put it down quickly!”

Belle turned to her grandmother, tears streaming down her face. “I swear, Doris, if you do this…if you kill this innocent gorilla, I will _never_ forgive you.”

Doris only shook her head, and motioned for Samson, who took hold of her elbows, prying them apart, he then took one of her wrists in a bruising grip and ripped it away from Austin.

Cogsworth, now looking far less murderous and more frightened than anything else, hesitantly took the squealing ape, depositing him into a pillow case another maid had brought in.

“PLEASE!” Belle sobbed. “I’m begging you, please! Don’t hurt him!”

“It’s for your own good,” Doris sniffed. “Take it, Cogsworth, and for God’s sake, make it quick.”

Samson’s grip on her wrist was like iron, but Belle knew something he didn’t, and she decided that now was the time to put her limits to the test.

Dropping like dead weight, Belle twisted her own wrist with a jerk, feeling the bones crack, before kicking Samson in the kneecaps with as much strength as she could muster.

It was probably shock most of all that made Samson release her, and she rolled to her feet, her hand hanging at an unnatural angle.

“Let him GO!” she screamed, reaching for the pillowcase, but Samson was faster, wrapping both arms around her from behind, lifting her off her feet as she wailed like a banshee.

“You’ve gone mad!” Doris exclaimed. “Cogsworth! Take that animal and kill it NOW!”

Face pale and hands shaking, Cogsworth turned on his heel and fled the room, all while Belle thrashed and fought.

Doris probably barked more orders, but Belle didn’t listen as she was dragged bodily upstairs, and thrown, shrieking, into her room. She listened as a lock slide into place.

Belle leaned her back against the door, sliding down until she was on the floor, sobbing miserably.

 

She must have slept, because she awoke some time later, still sitting on the floor. She was cold, and nauseated. Her wrist throbbed, but it was a dull, ignorable pain, completely at odds with its now grotesque appearance. It would heal soon, she just first had to find the energy to put the bone back into place.

There was a soft knock at the door, followed by a softer voice, and the lock clicked. Belle slowly rolled out of the way of the door, only to settle her back against the wardrobe, and glared up at her beloved maid.

“Where were you?” she said waspishly. “Why was that other maid in my room instead of you? Where were you when they were taking my Austin away?”

“Oh my sweet child,” Martha crooned, kneeling down beside her. “I didn’t know that foolish girl was going to take the linins into your room. But I should have, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry does nothing! Sorry doesn’t bring him back!”

Fat tears rolled down Martha’s face. “I’m so sorry, child.”

Belle turned her face away, not ready to let Martha’s anguish take away her anger.

A distressed cry warned her that Martha saw her injured wrist, and Belle didn’t protest when Martha gingerly raised the swollen, bruised hand to better see it.

“Belle, dear heart, what happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Belle said, taking her hand away.

“The wrist is dislocated! And probably broken, by the looks of it.”

A perverse desire to shock was what made Belle look into Martha’s eyes as she grabbed her wrist with her good hand, pulling and snapping the joint back into place with barely a wince.

“Christ almighty!”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Belle hissed. “It doesn’t really hurt me, and it’ll be better in a few days.”

“But _how_?”

“Just go away,” Belle said, turning her face away and pulling her knees up to her chest. “I want to be alone.”

Martha stood, wiping her eye with her apron. “I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am, my sweet girl.”

“Me too,” Belle muttered into her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *prepares for the torches and pitchforks* O__O
> 
> But at least you don't have to wait quite so long until the next update! Right??? (
> 
> Next week: Rum meet his new lawyer.


	14. A Lawyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum meets with his lawyer, and Belle find something to be hopeful about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say...WOW. I knew you guys weren't going to be happy, but I have to admit, I was not expecting that reaction to the last chapter! Stay tuned, I promise that there will be justice for poor Austin!!! :(
> 
> I'd also like to note here, that I know very little about the justice system outside of what I've learned from Law and Order. Combine that with this being the justice system in 19th century England...so if anything seems wonky or unrealistic, that's why, lol. I seriously doubt a trial like this would have ever even begun in real history...but then again, you hear some pretty pathetic stories of the way women were treated, so you never know!

The tall, fair-haired solicitor stuck his hand out to Rum, taking only the barest of moments to look over his features, but with more curiosity than fear or disgust.

“August W. Booth, Esquire,” he said with a friendly smile when Rum hesitantly shook his hand. “Mr. Nolan says that you’re in quite the predicament. I admit I didn’t quite understand what he meant by “extenuating circumstances,” but I think I’m seeing now. You’re quite an unusual fellow, aren’t you?”

“Quite,” Rum admitted dryly.

“Let’s sit, shall we?”

Rum, David, Jefferson, and Ruby all sat at one end of a large rectangular table in Booth’s office. When Rum looked across its expansive size nervously, August chuckled. “It’s only this big because sometimes it’s better to keep my client and the other far apart when we’re meeting. Now, tell me what’s going on. David said your wife was _kidnapped_? Is that true?”

“Y…yes,” Rum said. “Take…en. Clayton.”

August arched an eyebrow. “I, uh, I’ll need a little more than that. Like the whole story, starting with why you’re coming to me instead of the authorities.” he looked at the others present. “Does he not speak English? Is that why he has the entire cast of a Midsummer Night’s Dream here to support him?”

Ruby rolled her eyes at him. “Rum speaks perfect English, but he’s only spoken it for the last couple of years. I think…” she looked at Rum. “I think maybe it’s harder when you’re nervous?”

Rum shrugged one shoulder, feeling foolish and wretched.

“Well, that can happen to a native English speaker as well,” August said sympathetically. “But if what I understand about this case is what it is, we’re going to need Mr. Rum to be a bit more…linguistic.”

“I can do what…I need to,” Rum managed forcefully.

“Good! I like that sound of that. Now. All of you, tell me the story. Start from the beginning.”

 

All four spoke in turns to tell August the entire story, of who Rum was, how he and Belle met, what happened at the marina with Gaston and Dr. Whale, all the way up to where Rum and Belle were trying to help the elephants when she was ripped away. Ruby filled in information about Belle’s life prior to returning to Africa, and about her grandmother’s tyrannical desire to control her granddaughter’s future. It chafed at Rum, giving so much information to a stranger after being conditioned for two years by those closest to him that he should remain secret, but while August’s face was calculating, it didn’t hold the merest hint of malice.

August gave a low whistle. “Wow. You know, I dabble in a bit of fiction writing as a hobby, and I have to say, I couldn’t have imagined a more fantastical story!”

“It’s all true!” Ruby insisted.

“I’m not _doubting_ you, I’m just saying it would make one hell of a book! Maybe  when this is all over, you all won’t mind me turning it into an epic! But anyway, back to matters at hand. I think your concerns are valid. I know the French and the Clayton families, and both are _very_ influential. Especially the Claytons. No one in their right mind would cross the Claytons.”

“Luckily we’re not in our right mind,” Jefferson quipped cheerfully.

“True. But you’re right in thinking Doris French will use Mr. Rum’s primitive life and upbringing against him. As for the young Miss French…eh, well I don’t know her personally but…”

“But?” David prompted.

“Well, I wouldn’t normally say this, but my father is a groundskeeper for the Gold family. Nice family, high in standing but not greedy ladder climbers for the most part. I mentioned to him, conversationally, this morning that I could be taking a case against the French family. My father hears everything, mind you. I thought he may have picked up a bit of gossip that could be useful. And do you know what he said? He said he hears talk of Isabelle French being touched in the head.”

Rum looked over at Ruby when she gasped. “What does that mean?” he asked lowly.

“It means unstable,” Ruby spat. “Crazy.”

“Belle isn’t crazy!” Rum raged. “Who said that?!”

“I’m not saying she IS crazy! I’m saying Doris French is smart as hell, and she’s laying down some very damning groundwork. Putting word around town that Belle is touched will quickly make its way to judge and jury. Evidently she had some sort of breakdown recently, whether or not that’s true. But if Belle is believed to be insane, then she isn’t capable of making her own decisions…therefor…”

“Doris, her legal guardian,” David concluded. “Can do with her as she sees fit.”

“Should we send for Maurice?” Ruby asked. “He’s her father. He should have more say than Doris, surely?”

“There wouldn’t be time,” August said. “And besides, no one _should_ have more say than the husband…well, no that’s not true. No one should have more say than _Belle_ , but that unfortunately just isn’t how the law here works,” with that August raised himself considerable in Rum’s estimation. “And the fact is, Belle’s father gave up guardianship when she was ten years old.”

“So what’s your plan?” David asked.

August lifted his hands. “Look, I haven’t even said I was taking the case.”

David rolled his eyes. “Money’s no object, alright? I can pay for it.”

Rum gave him a look, but said nothing. He didn’t like that other people had to pay for _his_ family to stay together, but he would gladly join the beggars he’d seen on the streets if that was what it took.

“I’m not worried about that,” August said. “Like I said, no one crosses the Claytons. And Doris’s lawyer is a shark. They’ve got a sickeningly solid case, and I don’t know what you have to refute it,” he looked at Rum. “If you go through with this, your entire life story is going to come to light, possibly even things you didn’t even know yourself. The world is going to know about you. You’ll be in papers, be talked about for years to come. Doctors are going to want to study you. Are you prepared for all that? Is it worth it to you?”

Growling, Rum stood, leaning over the table and pressing his knuckles against the wood. “Belle is my _mate_. I will do _anything_.”

August smirked. “Now, that’s what I like to hear. I accept your case.”

 

Belle had holed herself up in her room for over 24 hours, rejecting food and human interaction alike.

She’d spent the night being sick from all the crying, her grief for Austin mingling with the searing pain of wanting her husband, a pain infinitely more agonizing than the pain in her wrist. She huddled on her bed, clutching her pillow, wishing with all her heart that it was Rum, that they were home in their bed together, and all of this was a bad dream.

“Why can’t you just come take me away?” she cried into the pillow, wondering what on earth Rum was _doing_ out there. He’d been in London for at least three days, and he’d yet to come for her. Was something preventing him? Was he okay? Had he just decided that she wasn’t worth the effort?

She began to feel irrationally angry with him, and beat her fists repeatedly into her pillow, ignoring the dull jolts of pain coming from her wrist.

By midnight the following night, she could no longer ignore that she was famished, and decided to tip toe into the kitchen for something to eat.

Unsurprisingly, she heard voices coming from the parlor, and she shivered at the sound of Gaston’s booming tone.

She was running out of fear, and emotion in general, so since she knew they were talking about her, she joined them.

“Isabelle,” Gaston greeted, frowning as he looked her up and down. “Doris, what in the devil have you done to the girl? She looks even worse than when I left her here!”

“It’s her own childishness that’s making her ill,” Doris scoffed. “Don’t worry, I’ll see to it myself that she’s presentable for the wedding.”

“If we get that far,” Gaston said.

“What do you mean?” Belle asked.

“It would seem your _beast_ has hired a lawyer,” he chuckled. “Can you imagine? Gorilla Man sitting in a court room in his loincloth?”

“A…a lawyer?” Belle echoed, perplexed. “Rum?”

“We would have had to petition the judge for annulment anyway,” Doris said. “It’s no matter.”

“True,” Gaston said. “In fact it may expedite matters, once the judge gets a look at that freak of nature, he’ll lock him up and throw away the key.”

Bile rose up in Belle’s throat, but she choked it back, refusing to give these two another show.

Gaston came over to her, taking her hands, and she was too numb to push him away. “Just you wait, my beautiful Isabelle, soon you will have forgotten all about him…what happened here?” he turned her wrist in his hand, fingering the bruises.

“Her tantrum yesterday resulted in a broken wrist,” Doris said. “And she refused to let the doctor…” she looked around Gaston’s shoulder. “Why, it’s already almost healed! How is that possible?”

Belle took her hands away. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

But Gaston was narrowing his eyes at her, and Belle knew she needed to get away.

“I’m going to get something to eat,” she said, brushing past them.

She felt Gaston’s eyes on her until she reached the kitchen, but deep inside, in the hole where her heart belonged, was the renewed flickering of hope.

 

There was a whole, maddening process to law, Rum soon learned. August had been talking with Doris’s lawyer, a man August described as “worst of the worst as far as lawyers go,” by the name of Albert Spencer. The hearing was set for the following day, an unprecedented short amount of time according to August, but the Clayton influence was moving matters along apparently.

They sat in the Nolan’s parlor, since they’d found that Rum was more comfortable, and could speak more easily there.

August was explaining in the ins and outs of court, to lessen the chance of Rum being surprised.

“It’ll be intimidating to you,” he warned. “I wish there was enough time to arrange a practice trial of sorts. But you _must_ keep it together. We can’t do anything about your looks, but if they’re going to paint you as a wild savage, we’re going to show them that you’re naught but a quiet, mild-mannered, upstanding, civilized gentleman.”

“Every time you get nervous,” Mary Margaret said. “Just think of Belle, okay?”

“Will she be there?” Rum asked.

“She’s supposed to be,” August said. “But I wouldn’t put it past them to keep her under lock and key, and claim she had a “spell” or something ridiculous.”

“Then we break her out,” Ruby said. “If both Doris and Gaston are at the hearing, nothing but a few servants are preventing us from getting Belle out of that house!”

August hummed. “It’s risky, but if Belle can show up, looking the picture of respectability and maturity, it can only help. She’ll just have to be careful not to get upset, or give them anything they can use against us. I wish I could speak to her first, but they’ll never allow that.”

“Belle has a temper, but she’s the smartest, wiliest person I know,” Mary Margaret said. “Get her to the courtroom and she’ll take care of the rest.”

“Who will do it, though?” David asked. “Doris will expect Ruby and I there, and Mary Margaret can’t.”

“I’ll do it,” Jefferson said. “I have no testimony you or Ruby can’t give, and my absence won’t be as suspicious,” he looked to Rum. “You trust me?”

Rum smiled. “More than anyone.”

“Then there’s one more matter we need to discuss,” August said. “Just what, pray tell, is your _name_?”

Rum frowned, blinking a few times before responding. “It’s…Rum.”

“Rum? Just Rum? You really don’t remember your full name?”

“He’s gone by Rum French,” Jefferson suggested.

August shook his head. “No, going by the French name is not a good idea in this situation. If he doesn’t have a name, we’ll have to come up with…”

“Adam.”

Five pairs of eyes turned to Rum with varying expressions of puzzlement and surprise. “What was that?” August said.

“Adam Rumford,” Rum said, staring at the carpet. “It is my name.”

“Wait…” Jefferson said, holding up a hand. “Did you just make that up, or is that really…”

“It is my name,” he said firmly, looking at his friend. “My father’s name was Malcolm Rumford. But he never gave me a Christian name. The aunts who took me in did. They called me Adam. I never told the doctors at the laboratory. I never told Malcolm. I never told anyone.”

“Not even Belle?” Ruby asked quietly.

“I had forgotten…for so long. I had forgotten…many things. For so many years things like, like names and words faded until they were a memory, a memory I wasn’t even sure was real. When I met Belle, she spoke to me, and very slowly the words came back, they had _meaning_ again. One day she read me a story. It was from the…the Bible. I heard the name, and I remembered. My aunts read me the same story. I didn’t tell her…I do not know why. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. I am her Rum, and that is all I want to be.”

Jefferson placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re Rum to us, too.”

“But tomorrow, you must be Adam,” August said, eyes softened by Rum’s story. “Can you be that?”

Rum nodded. “For Belle, I can.”

The butler entered then, clearing his throat to gain attention. “A Ms. Martha Potts is here, Mr. Nolan.”

“That’s Belle’s maid!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “Show her in!”

Belle had told Rum frequently of her beloved maid, stating how she’d been as close to a mother as Belle could have had in the circumstances. But she’d never really described Martha’s appearance. So considering that the only people Rum had come in contact with in London  so far were white-skinned, he hadn’t been expecting the black woman who came through the door. He stood when the other men in the room did.

“Martha, come in!” Mary Margaret greeted.

“Is Belle okay?” Rum asked, forgetting manners in his worry.

“You must be Rum,” Martha said, smiling a bit sadly. “Well I’ll be…she said you were pretty, and you are. All that sparkling green skin.”

Rum flushed slightly, never having heard anyone, not even Belle, describe him as “pretty.” “Is she alright?”

Martha twisted her apron in her fingers. “She’s far from alright, I’m afraid. That’s why I had to come. I’ll be in a world of trouble if the Mistress finds out, but I _had_ to!”

Everyone in the room took a hasty step forward.

“What do you mean?”

“Is she hurt?”

“Did Clayton do something?”

Rum turned and snarled, surprising everyone into silence. “What’s happened, Martha?” he asked, as gently as he was able.

“Well, she’s been so sick for one thing. We thought it was lingering seasickness, but it just hasn’t gone completely away. And then the night before last…oh, it was _all_ my fault! I went to bed early with a headache and…”

“ _What_?” Rum begged. “What has happened?”

“It was the baby gorilla that she brought with her. We’d been keeping him hid in her room, but one of the maids found him. Belle cried and begged, but Doris had the poor thing taken away and destroyed. She went nearly mad with grief!”

“Gorilla?” Ruby asked. “She had a baby gorilla with her?”

“She called it Austin.”

“No…” Rum breathed. “But I left…” he moaned, running his hands through her hair. “Bae was injured…I never…I never realized Austin wasn’t…”

“Wait, I don’t understand,” August broke in. “What does this mean? You’re talking about an _actual_ gorilla?”

“She loved him like a child,” Rum explained mournfully. “I have to go to her…I have to…”

“You _can’t_!” Jefferson said, grabbing his arm. “We have to stick to the plan!”

“What plan?” Martha asked.

“What if Belle isn’t fit to go to court tomorrow?” Ruby asked. “If she’s sick, grieving…”

“But that’s not all,” Martha said. “She did something else. She…Doris’s hired man, Samson, big ugly fellow. He was holding her while they took the gorilla away. I didn’t see it happen, but the other maids said she _deliberately_ broke her own wrist to get away from him. And I saw the wrist for myself, later. I also watched her snap the bone into place like it was nothing at all. And today you wouldn’t think it was anything but a mild sprain. Doris and Gaston have noticed and…the maids have been hearing Gaston talk…it’s scaring me.”

“I don’t understand,” August said.

“Me either,” David put in. “You mean she’s really…taken on your ability to heal fast?”

Rum nodded. “Yes. And she doesn’t feel as much pain.”

“It’s because of you?” Martha asked. “How could see have…oh…”

“Why did Gaston’s reaction trouble you?” Ruby asked, changing the subject.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it…” she said. “But he seemed…eager.”

“Well I don’t like _that_ ,” David said, crossing his arms. “Sooner we get her away from these people, the better.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Ruby told Martha. “And, listen, during the hearing tomorrow, Jefferson is going to come to take Belle to the courthouse. Any way you could help would be appreciated, and you should probably prepare her.”

“I will if I get a chance,” Martha said. “Ever since the incident with the gorilla, Doris has been seeing to it that I don’t spend much time alone with her. As the Lord as my witness, when this is over, I’m putting in my resignation. I would have done it already, if it weren’t  for needing to be there, for Belle.”

“Well, there’s a place here for you, if you want it,” David said.

“I thank you,” Martha said warmly, before turning back to Rum and taking his hand. “Please promise me something; if this doesn’t work, if you lose the case, you take Belle, and you run far away, and don’t come back. You hear?”

Rum nodded. “I promise.”

“Good. That baby girl is like the daughter I was never able to have, I just don’t know what I’ll do if anything were to happen to her. And…I’m so sorry, again, about the little one.”

Rum clenched his jaw, and squeezed her hand. Martha released him and dropped a quick curtsy before leaving the way she’d come.

He grieved for poor Austin, and raged at that despicable woman for having the innocent ape killed, but on top of all of that was worry and sadness for his wife.

“She wants a child so,” he said, to no one in particular. “We do not talk about it, but I know. After a time, I think she accepted it. But Austin…he…he was the closest thing to a child she had. As Bae is, for me.”

“I’m so sorry Rum,” Ruby said, rubbing his arm.

Tears sprung unbidden to his eyes, and he rubbed angrily at them with the back of his hand. “I need her. I need my wife. I need to hold her, see that she’ll be okay.”

“And you will,” David said. “I _promise_ you, Rum. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ll be with Belle again. And as for a child…Rum,” he looked over at where Mary Margaret sat. “Rum, we’ve been married for over five years, and look…we’d given up hope too. It can still happen.”

Rum nodded, turning to go. “Going on a walk.”

He went outside, heading for the biggest tree he could find before scurrying up it. In the two years since knowing Belle, they’ve never been apart for more than a day. The longer he went without her, the more intense the pain of separation became. And now she was all alone, grieving, and sick, and he wasn’t there. She needed him, and he wasn’t there. And he needed _her_ , needed her more than he needed breath. Needed to see her, touch her, kiss her, undress her and feel her under and around him until they couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.

He didn’t know how he was going to behave like an “upstanding gentleman” when all he was going to want to do is roar, flip a table, and carry Belle to safety. But he would do it, he would do it their way.

And if it didn’t work, he’d do it _his_ way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The trial begins


	15. Looking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson arrives to escort Belle to the trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is an inexcusably short chapter, but I have a feeling it'll make some of you VERY happy, lol. Sorry about missing last week's update, just bear with me while I get the details in this thing straightened out! We're almost at the end!!! Thanks for all the support!!!

Gaston had arrived with his mother early that morning to pick up Doris before going to the hearing that would decide _her_ fate.

Belle was scarcely surprised when Doris didn’t consider her fit for the “stress of court.” But she had become so numb, so apathetic, that she didn’t put up a fight.

Her only hint of feeling came when Gaston approached her to tell her goodbye, lifting her hand to kiss it.

He had squeezed her hand hard, hard enough to bruise and feel her cartilage crack. If she’d had the presence of mind, she would have pretended to wince in pain, but even the pain she _did_ feel felt inconsequential to her.

But the look in his eyes when he did it, the covetous, gleeful expression, made her blood run cold. He looked like a boy she once knew when she was eleven. He had caught a toad, and began cutting it open with a knife like a dissection he’d seen in a book. But the toad had still been alive, and Belle could never forget the manic excitement on the boy’s face as the toad squirmed in pain. She had raged at the boy, punched him in the face, and then quickly finished killing it. But she never forgot the look, the same look she saw on Gaston’s face. And suddenly, she felt like that toad.

But they’d scarcely been gone half an hour before Belle was pulled away from staring out the window by a crash and a muffled curse, followed by a loud thump.

She sat, staring placidly at the door, until it flew open, and there stood Jefferson.

“Morning, Belle!”

“Jefferson!” she exclaimed, actual _feeling_ flooding her heart for the first time in days. She leapt to her feet and crashed into him, sobbing into his chest.

“Hey now, none of that!” he said, awkwardly petting her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay, little bunny rabbit. You’ll see!”

“Where’s Rum?!” she cried, pulling away. “Is he coming?”

“He’s at the courthouse,” Jefferson explained. “And that’s where we need to go. They can’t keep you out of a trial that’s all about _you_! Now, hurry! Get dressed!”

Belle nodded, wiping her nose with his sleeve, and rushed to her wardrobe. Martha came in looking flustered.

“Is our friend tied up?” Jefferson asked her.

“He is at that,” Martha said. “And I paid the maids all a shilling each to keep their mouths shut. But I think even the most loyal to Doris has been becoming uncomfortable with what’s been happening to Belle.”

“Friend?” Belle asked, turning toward the door of her wardrobe and yanking off her shift, ignoring Martha’s outraged gasp at doing so with a man present, as well as Jefferson’s quizzical look that seemed to have nothing to do with her nakedness. “You mean Samson?”

“Hit him over the head with your croquet mallet,” Jefferson said proudly. “You feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” Belle said, waving Martha over to help with her corset laces. “Just very ready to get _away_ from here.”

“We hope to have this settled peacefully,” Jefferson said. “But rest assured, if it doesn’t turn out the way we hope, you’re _not_ coming back here.”

Belle smiled. “Thank you. And Martha, you probably shouldn’t stay here either. When Doris finds out…”

“I’m already packed to go, dearie. Your friends, the Nolans, have offered me a position there.”

“You’ll be happy there, Martha. I promise.”

“Miss?”

Cogsworth tapped on door, pushing it open hesitantly. When Belle and Martha tensed, Jefferson stepped in front of them.

“I’m leaving Cogsworth,” Belle said firmly. “And you’re _not_ stopping me.”

Cogsworth shifted back and forth on his feet, his hands behind his back. “No I eh…I wanted to apologize, Miss Belle. I’ve served Ms. French faithfully for over twenty years but…but what she did to you the other night…that wasn’t right.”

Belle didn’t exactly feel inclined to forgive, but didn’t have the energy to argue either. “Fine. Apology accepted. Now if you’ll excuse us…”

Cogsworth suddenly took something from behind his back, holding it out before him. It was the pillowcase, and for a heart wrenching moment Belle believed he had actually brought her Austin’s body before a fuzzy black head popped out all on its own.

“Austin?” she breathed.

With a happy chatter, Austin leapt from the pillowcase and right into Belle’s outstretched arms.

“Austin!” she laughed and cried at once, burying her face into the coarse black fur, feeling his warmth and heartbeat and _life_. “You’re alive!”

“I couldn’t do it,” Cogsworth said nervously. “I took him outside, to do as I was told…but I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. Its eyes…they’re too smart. And there was no reason to be that cruel to you. I hid him in the dovecote. One of the stable lads was happy to care for him and keep him secret. I was afraid to tell you, or anyone else. Afraid of what would happen if Ms. French found out. I wasn’t sure _what_ to do with the thing. But I knew I couldn’t kill him.”

“Thank you,” Belle sobbed, cradling Austin in one arm while she hugged Cogsworth with the other. The old butler had caused her so much grief over the years, but he was forgiven, as far as she was concerned.

“We better go,” Jefferson said.

“Will you take Austin to David and Mary Margaret’s?” Belle asked Martha. “He’ll be safe there.”

“Give ‘im here,” she said, taking the ape. “But I’m tying a leash to him first. Now go, you don’t want to be late!”

Belle grinned, then kissed both maid and ape on the cheeks before grabbing Jefferson’s hand and running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The trial begins, and Belle sees Rum in a whole new light.


	16. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial to determine Belle's fate commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very late, but it's still Thursday here, so it counts!!!
> 
> Ok, I've said it before but just as a reminder I know very little about court processes outside what I've seen on Law and Order, and way less about British law in the 19th century. A few people have pointed out flaws in logic here, and I agree completely but...it is what it is, lol. :D
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

Belle and Jefferson stopped on the steps of the courthouse while Jefferson smoothed down her hair and pinched her cheeks to bring forth a little color.

“Doing alright?” he asked again. “Not too tired?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she laughed, having already been asked that question a dozen times on the cab ride and brisk walk over. “I’m ready to see my husband. I can’t believe he’s in a courtroom. It’s surreal.”

Jefferson chuckled and offered his arm. “Just you wait.”

They entered the courtroom quietly. Belle had never been inside one, only read about them in books. It seemed smaller somehow than she would have pictured, less grand. But the white powdered wigs were just as silly-looking as she imagined.

They had a seat just as the young lawyer who Belle vaguely recognized from town as August Booth called for an Adam Rumford to the stand.

Belle had just enough time to puzzle at the name before a man up front was standing and making his way to the stand. His back was straight, his shoulder-length hair oiled and gathered neatly in the back with a blue bow, his black suit pristine and the very picture of fashionable. And he walked with a golden-handled cane.

In short, had it not been for the unmistakable greenish skin, she may not have recognized her own husband at all.

Jefferson was chuckling at her no-doubt flabbergasted expression, but her focus was totally on her Rum. He looked confident, sitting there at the stand while being told to swear to honesty. But she could see the discomfort in his eyes, could feel it roll off of him in waves, and she ached to be beside him, to take his hand in hers and hold him to her.

The whole courtroom was murmuring, pointing at him, and the judge stared at Rum in discomfort. It made her incredibly angry, and she had to bite her lip hard to keep from yelling at everyone just where she thought they could go.

“Mr. Rumford,” August began amiably. “Can you please tell the court, in your own words, why we’re here today?”

For a moment Rum didn’t answer, and Belle chewed ever more anxiously on her lip, silently begging him to speak. But then his eyes scanned the room, and they landed directly on her, and his face went through a remarkable change. His eyes widened minutely, and she could tell without needing to hear that he inhaled suddenly. Then it was like all at once he relaxed, and when he looked back at August, the confidence was genuine.

“My wife was kidnapped,” he began, his voice clear and loud. “We were near our home in a village in Central Africa, where my wife teaches, when we heard reports of a protected herd of elephants being poached. She accompanied me to investigate, and Mr. Gaston Clayton was there. It seemed as though he’d planned the event, to lure us away from the village. He drugged me, and took Belle, unwillingly.”

Even Belle, who knew well of his progress with language, was floored by the perfectly articulate response. Even Jefferson, who she had no doubt helped coach Rum, was raising his eyebrows in admiration.

“What did you do when you came out of the drug?” August asked.

“I went back to the village, to tell the Hadithi Queen and Belle’s father what happened. And then I immediately hired passage to England.”

“Have you seen your wife since arriving?”

His jaw twitched. “No. They have kept her locked away inside the French house. They claim to want to marry her to Mr. Clayton.”

August picked a piece of paper up from the desk they had previously been sitting before. “Can you tell the court what this is?”

“That is our marriage certificate.”

“Which states that you and Isabelle French were married two years ago, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So I ask you,” August addressed the judge. “How does Isabelle’s grandmother expect her to marry Mr. Clayton when she is _already_ married? Mr. Rumford, I do not want to be indelicate, but may the court assume that, in the two years you have been married to Belle, your marriage has been consummated?”

“Of course,” Rum said. “We have been man and wife in every sense, for two years.”

“So you see,” August turned to address the room at large. “Not only would an annulment be unlawful in the eyes of the court, it would be unlawful in the eyes of _God_. I move that this entire sham of a case be dismissed, and that my client be allowed to take his wife home.”

Belle was gratified to see that the judge seemed to be nodding along with what August was saying, but her nerves reared their heads again when Doris’s snake of a lawyer, Spencer, stood to question Rum.

“Mr. Rumford, where are you from?”

“S…Scotland, originally,” Rum said, flicking his eyes to Belle every so often for reassurance. She made a conscious effort to keep her expression calm and encouraging, though she feared he would be able to read her nervousness just as easily and she did his.

“And how long ago was that?”

“I left when I was four.”

“Left? You mean your father sent you away, don’t you? To a laboratory hidden in the jungles of Africa?”

“Objection,” August said, standing. “Mr. Rumford’s childhood has no bearing in this case.”

“I’m only trying to establish Mr. Rumford’s credibility,” Spencer said.

“Let’s keep it to more recent years, shall we?” the judge said.

“Very well. Mr. Rumford, where do you and your wife live, exactly?”

“In a village, as I said.”

“A very secluded village, isn’t it? The very same village Isabelle French was sent away from by her father when she was ten years old. Because it was so dangerous. That village?”

Rum’s jaw twitched again. “Yes.”

“And what do you do for a living?”

“I am…a shepherd.”

“Sounds like a reasonable living. But tell me, where did you live _before_ you married Isabelle?”

Rum hesitated, glaring at the lawyer. “In the Jungle. Alone.”

“All alone? No human interaction whatsoever?”

“I lived…among gorillas.”

Belle heard quite a bit of murmuring over that, and she glared at a woman nearby who’d made a disgusted sound.

“For how long did you live among _gorillas_?”

“…Most of my life.”

“Then is it also true, that when you met Isabelle, you were living no better than an animal? Speechless, unclothed, no human decency whatsoever?”

“Yes,” Rum said. “But my life before has nothing to do with how I live with Belle. She has taught me, made me better.”

“I’m sure she has! But have you made _her_ life better? Three years ago, Isabelle lived in a fine home, a member of a prestigious family, she had a superb education, and was lined up to marry the most eligible man in London. A man who could have seen to it that Isabelle, and any children they had, would live a charmed life, and want for nothing for their entire lives. And now? She lives in…what, a treehouse, hundreds of miles away from civilization? How many times has her life been in danger since meeting you, Mr. Rumford?”

“I…I’m not…”

“It’s a good thing there _aren’t_ any children, the way you live!”

“She’s not…”

“And it isn’t even as though you can live anywhere else. She can’t be seen in polite society with someone like you. You’re grotesque!”

“Objection!” August broke in. “Insulting Mr. Rumford’s natural appearance is uncalled for!”

“I agree,” the judge drolled, though he still eyed Rum with a grimace. “Mr. Spencer, watch it.”

“Withdrawn,” Spencer said, smirking. “But you have to admit, Mr. Rumford, that there are others who can give Isabelle the kind of life you can _never_ give her.”

“It’s true,” Rum said. “But they can’t love her the way I do.”

“Love doesn’t put bread on the table, nor a roof over your head, does it Mr. Rumford?”

Belle wanted to scream; _no! But his hands do!_ But Rum had no response, and the watchers were all shaking their heads.

Rum looked deflated when he left the stand, but he gave a warm smile to Belle before sitting down. Oh, how she longed to hold him.

She grimaced when Doris was called to the stand, and after a withering glare upon noticing Belle, she went on an awful tirade about Belle’s supposed depraved descent into madness. It was horrible, and all the more for being incredibly convincing, with just enough truth sprinkled in to make it so.

Belle had supposedly suffered from spells of hysteria from the time she came to live with Doris. Stemmed, she was sure, from losing her mother so gruesomely at such a young age. Doris had believed finishing school had put her on the straight and narrow, but even still she had been hesitant to allow Belle to go to Africa to visit her father. However, she felt like her son should be able to see his child and meet the man she was to marry, so she’d allowed it. When she heard that Belle had run away with a savage, she’d been heartbroken. And then Gaston had apparently been killed, and she feared she would never see her beloved granddaughter again.

When Gaston’s mother got a letter from her son, stating that he was alive and well, though disfigured, Doris wrote him a letter of her own, begging him to save her granddaughter and bring her home. Gaston agreed, even though he’d heard of the marriage. He told Doris that he still loved Belle, and would still marry her, despite her having lain with another. He vowed to rescue her from the clutches of the same beast who had scarred his face.

Doris was overjoyed to have her granddaughter back, but Belle was deeply damaged. She flinched at every touch, and suffered from a mysterious illness that she couldn’t seem to overcome. A recent outburst led to her needing to be restrained when she attempted to hurt herself, an entire household could attest to it, and they’d worried that the courtroom would be too stressful, which was the only reason they had left her at home.

“But it would seem she is here,” the judge said, waving a hand in her direction.

“Yes, I see,” Doris said. “My dear, I do hope you haven’t overtaxed yourself.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Grandmother,” Belle said. “I’m just rather perplexed by the load of malarkey I just heard. Judge Midus? May I have the opportunity to speak for myself?”

“Take the stand,” he said, waving again. “If you feel able.”

Belle stood and primly made her way to the stand, taking pains to walk closely by Rum so that she could brush her hand across his shoulder as she went. He looked like he had to force himself not to follow.

“Miss French,” Spencer began.

“That’s _Mrs. Rumford_ ,” Belle corrected him primly. In truth, she of course had kept the surname French – or rather hadn’t given it much thought at all. But she wanted to make it clear to the judge and everyone watching that she was Rum’s _wife_.

“Of course,” the judge said dubiously, and a bit condescendingly. “Mrs. Rumford, do you disagree with the things your grandmother has said?”

“Of course I do!” she exclaimed, calming herself at August’s warning look. “If I’ve displayed any madness since being brought here against my will, it has been because I was locked up like a prisoner. I think this whole thing is what is mad. I don’t _want_ an annulment of my marriage. I love my husband, and I don’t need anyone to tell me what’s best for me. Only _I_ decide my fate.”

“But Mrs. Rumford, is it not true that you tried to hurt yourself?” he asked.

“No,” she said, lifting her chin. “My grandmother’s _henchman_ grabbed me, and I tried to get away. My wrist was…sprained.”

Spencer looked at the judge. “I have accounts from three maids that Isabelle was like a wild animal, screaming and frothing at the mouth.”

“Frothing at the mouth?!” Belle exclaimed. “Oh, come now. Yes I screamed, but do you know why? My… _pet_ , was accidentally brought over from Africa. When my grandmother discovered it, so took it away and had it _destroyed_. I was already distraught over the entire situation. Can you blame me for being upset when a beloved pet is cruelly taken away?”

“I have that in the report,” Spencer said. “The witnesses all said you were cradling the _monkey_ like a child and calling it your baby. I agree that Ms. French having the animal eliminated was perhaps harsh, but surely the court sympathizes that Doris was frightened for the girl she raised as a daughter, and was at her wit’s end.”

“It was a _gorilla_ , not a monkey, and Doris doesn’t care for me one whit. All she cares about is raising her own status.”

“Now, I don’t think you believe that,” Spencer said, his own tone condescending in the extreme. “All your grandmother wants is to be sure you and any future great-grandchildren are given the best possible life.”

“But it’s _my life_! I’m not a child!”

Spencer shook his head sadly. “I think, in many ways, you are, my dear. No further questions.”

The courtroom was buzzing, and August leapt to his feet, hurrying to question Belle himself.

“Mrs. Rumford, has your husband ever been rough with you? Ever struck you?”

“No!” Belle exclaimed. “He would never!”

“Has Mr. Clayton?”

Belle sat back, and glowered over at Gaston where he sat between his mother and father like a boy. “Yes.”

August raised his brow meaningfully at the judge. “But I suppose the most important question here is, who do you want to be married to?”

Belle refrained from rolling her eyes. Barely. “Adam Rumford,” she clipped, the name feeling odd on her tongue, but she spoke it with every ounce of feeling she had. She looked over at Rum, feeling herself begin to melt in the face of the look he was giving her. It was then that she realized just _how_ long it had been since she’d had her husband, and if this absurd trial wasn’t finished soon, she might really give her grandmother and the Claytons something to be scandalized about.

The last to go to the stand was Gaston, who infuriatingly looked the very pinnacle of sweet, respectable young man. He detailed the events that led to his supposed death, displaying immense guilt for being manipulated by Doctor Whale.

“Isabelle is the love of my life,” he said miserably. “I don’t truly want to force her into marriage. The thought makes me ill! But…I’m just so _scared_ for her! I’d do anything to keep her safe, anything! It matters not to me that she’s been with another man these past two years. I can forgive her anything. Belle has always been…different. She used to confide in me, all those years ago. She told me of frightening thoughts she had to hurt herself and others, and I developed a knack for calming her down. No one knows her like I do. And that…that _man_ , Mr. Rumford, he’s just made her condition worse! When I found her she was thin, wasting away. She looked half-wild. She lashed out at me on the ship, and locked herself away below deck. You can see now that she’s calm and collected, but that’s after over a fortnight of patience and love. I know she’s convincing, she’s always been convincing. But please…I beg of you…don’t let my beautiful Isabelle go back to that horrible man!”

“I sympathize, Mr. Clayton,” Judge Midas said, making Belle’s heart sink. “But the real purpose of this hearing is for an annulment, and from what I’ve seen, there is no grounds for such. They’ve a marriage certificate, and have consummated it. As far as the law is concerned, Isabelle belongs to Mr. Rumford.”

“They were married before a heathen African chief,” Gaston argued. “Not a man of God. And as for consummation…my and Belle’s relationship was consummated long ago.”

“That’s a lie!” Belle exclaimed, standing up. “I’d never let you touch me!”

“You needn’t be ashamed!” Gaston said, eyes glinting.

“Objection!” August said. “This is hearsay. Mrs. Rumford and Mr. Clayton were never married in any form, so it’s neither here nor there!”

“But it isn’t even true!” Belle insisted hotly.

The judge banged his gavel, making everyone still. “I’ve heard enough. I’m retiring to my chambers, and will return presently with a decision.”

Belle waited no longer than the second Midus left the courtroom before all but leaping over the railing to throw herself into Rum’s waiting arms.

She buried her nose into his neck, inhaling deep. He smelled of fancy soap and the flowery cleanser his clothes were washed in. She had to press closer to pick up the scent that was purely Rum, and she wished she could swim in it.

“My Belle,” he was whispering over and over.

“My Rum,” she whispered back before pulling away to look at him, tears in both their eyes. “I’m so proud of you! And you look awfully handsome!”

He ducked his head bashfully, gathering her close again, so that she was able to press her lips close to his ear to say, “But I prefer the loincloth,” before quickly biting his earlobe.

“Isabelle, stop it! You’re behaving abhorrently!” Doris hissed.

Belle pulled back, but not out of Rum’s arms. “I am embracing my husband after weeks apart. I’m doing absolutely nothing unseemly.”

The doors to the courtroom opened again, and Midas returned. Everyone went back to their seats, but this time Belle sat directly behind Rum, and she could see the lines of his back bunching. She knew that if this went wrong, they were going to run, and she needed to be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The judge makes his decision, and Gaston snaps.


	17. Men and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial comes to a close, but not everyone is happy with the outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning for this chapter!

Seeing Belle for the first time in far too long inside that courtroom was like seeing sunlight after spending weeks in a windowless cave. It was like being able to breathe again after being held under water.

All of a sudden, he had felt calm, and sure. Belle was there, she was well, (if admittedly quite pale,) and she was smiling at him with all her love there in her eyes. It was going to be okay.

The hearing was agonizing. It felt like watching a baby bird try to fly. One minute they’re doing it, the next minute they’re plummeting to the ground. But August was incredible, whispering words of assurances and clearly doing everything in his power to make things go their way.

Rum had practiced what to say for hours, and August and Jefferson had drilled him relentlessly with all kinds of different scenarios. He’d been prepared for the worst, and hoped for the best.

When the judge left to decide their fate, Belle had leapt into his arms, and he felt his heart begin to beat again.

She was warm, and smelled like Belle. He didn’t detect the scent of any infection or illness, though his sensitive nose picked up the barest hint of sick that had been washed from her mouth, and it concerned him.

It actually physically _hurt_ him to let her go again when the judge reappeared, but she sat closer than she had before, and was flanked on either side by Jefferson and David. They would help protect her, and get her away if need be. August gave him an encouraging wink, and they took their seats.

“I have reached a decision,” Judge Midas said. “After reviewing all of the information, I have decided that the marriage between Adam Rumford and Isabelle French is valid in the eyes of God, and has no grounds for annulment.”

Doris exclaimed in outrage, and Rum slumped in relief.

“I suggest you file for a legal marriage license,” Midas continued. “So that we won’t have to return to this later on.”

Rum was turning as he stood, grasping Belle’s hands from across the railing.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Rumford,” August said.

“Adam?” Belle asked, eyes shining.

Rum smiled. “It is, was, my name. Long ago.”

Belle’s smile turned wistful. “Do you wish to be known as such?”

Rum leaned across the railing to give her a chaste kiss. “I am your Rum.”

“My Rum,” she agreed.

“Glad that’s over,” David said. “Supper at our house?”

Belle grinned at him. “I hope Austin hasn’t destroyed the place.”

“Austin?” Everyone but Jefferson said at once.

“But…” Rum began. “Your maid, Martha…she said…”

“My old butler lied,” Belle giggled. “He didn’t kill Austin. Both Austin and Martha are at David’s house.”

Rum grinned in relief, and kissed her hair. It wouldn’t be long now, and all _three_ of them would be on their way home.

“Come to supper, August?” David asked.

“Well, I’m quite interested to meet a real live gorilla, but I think I better go ahead and get Rum and Belle’s marriage license ready for them to sign.”

“Tomorrow,” Rum said. “Tonight we celebrate.”

“I don’t think so,” Gaston said.

“Mr. Clayton!” Midas yelled. “Just what do you think you’re doing?!”

Gaston was there, wielding a pistol, aimed right at Belle. “I’m taking what’s mine!”

“Mr. Clayton!” Doris exclaimed. “Have you gone mad? Put that gun away!”

Even his parents shrank back in shock and mortification.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” August droned, having been the only one that didn’t take an automatic step away. “You’re outnumbered, and breaking the law to boot.”

Gaston ignored him. “Come along Belle, before someone gets hurt.”

“You’re insane!” Belle said at the same time Rum said, “She isn’t going anywhere.”

Gaston moved the gun to point at David. “You and your beast may be near invincible. But no one else is. You have five seconds, Belle, or they’ll die.”

Belle slid out the bench, moving slowly before David who grabbed at her dress to stop her.

“No, Belle!” Rum hissed, blocking her path.

“It’s okay,” Belle whispered. “Come for me.”

Gaston had switched to aiming at Ruby and Belle stood directly in front of him.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said calmly. “I’ll never be yours, Gaston.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, spinning her around and looping an arm around her neck.

Rum leapt forward suddenly, shoving Gaston’s gun hand up and causing him to lose his grip on it. It skittered across the floor, and Jefferson jumped the railing, snatching it up.

“Shoot him!” Belle exclaimed.

“No! I’ll hit you!”

“I’ll be _fine_ , remember? Just don’t hit anything vital!”

A knife had appeared in Gaston’s hand, and he had it poised against her throat while his free arm wrapped around her midsection, and Jefferson stared at that arm for a long beat before he lowered the pistol.

Gaston slowly backed away toward the door, and when Rum made to charge, Jefferson grabbed his arm.

“What have you done?!” Rum demanded as Gaston dragged Belle out of the courthouse. Jefferson stopped him as he tried to follow again, and Rum punched him.

Jefferson reeled back, covering his nose. “Wait!” he cried. “Just wait a damned minute!”

“He’s getting away!”

“I think she may be pregnant!”

Everyone, including Doris, the Claytons, and the judge froze and stared at Jefferson.

“What?” Rum said in a choked voice.

“Just _listen_ okay? Now don’t be mad, but when we came here Belle was dressing, and I saw…”

“Why the hell were you watching her dress?” Ruby demanded.

“I said _listen_! She’s skinny as a rail but her stomach looked rounder. She’s been so stressed and scared she may not have even noticed. And Martha said she’s been sick, and tired…” he trailed off, lifting his arms and letting them fall again, his face pale and pinched.

“He’s right,” David said. “Mary Margaret was just like that at first.”

“Isabelle is pregnant?” Doris asked.

“Get the hell away from us!” Ruby snapped. “This is all your fault!”

“I have to get to her,” Rum said.

“You just have to be careful,” Jefferson said. “You’ve made Belle extraordinarily tough, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the baby is.”

 

Once outside, Gaston tossed Belle up onto a horse and mounted behind her, kicking it into a gallop down the street.

Gaston had clearly lost it, so Belle had decided to play it cool, to lessen the chances of anyone else getting hurt.

“I’m going to be sick,” she said once they reached they reached a long alleyway near the docks, the fishy smell compounded with the motion of the horse making her stomach churn.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

But she wasn’t bluffing, so she turned her head to try and get as much vomit on Gaston and as little on the defenseless horse as she could.

“You disgusting bitch!” he railed, jumping off the horse and dragging her harshly with him.

There was a series of large warehouses along the bay, empty as it was the end of the day. He pulled her into one, and she inwardly groaned at the fact that all the buildings looked the same, and a quick look behind her showed no sight of anyone behind them. Why hadn’t Rum followed right away? Could he have been hurt somehow? And she knew that the nauseating fish monger smell was strong enough to mask her scent, making it more difficult to track her.

While Gaston was busy barring the door, Belle had a look around the dark, frigid building.

There was machinery of the sort that she couldn’t make heads or tails of, but clearly it involved fish, and she gagged at the sight of a bucket of fish heads. She thought she may never want to eat fish again.

She took quick stock of possible weapons. A mop standing nearby, a chair, some wicked-looking fish-cleaning instrument that looked highly useful but was much farther away. Could she get her hands on that chain if she jumped?

Gaston turned around then, and she stood with her hands folded innocently before her. “Give me your flask,” she said, indicating the one he always wore in his belt. “Or risk me aiming for your other shoe when I can take the taste of vomit no longer.”

He handed over the flask, and she swished the whiskey in her mouth, before spitting onto the filthy floor and swallowing a sip more. It was actually quite good whiskey.

“So what’s your plan?” she asked him levelly. “Abscond with me into the night? England isn’t that big of a place, Gaston. And you’ll never be able to get me onto a ship, not after pulling a gun in a court of law.”

“I don’t care about marrying you anymore,” he said, pacing before her. “I just couldn’t let him _win_.”

“Who? Rum? He’s done nothing to you! Nothing _you_ didn’t instigate!”

“He’s an animal! He doesn’t deserve to walk around like a man! Not after what he did to my face!”

“Your _face_? Christ, Gaston, you have a crooked nose and some scars on your cheek. People are hardly running and screaming at the sight of you.”

“No, but they run and scream at the sight of your _husband_ , and yet you still go to bed with him at night.”

“Rum’s looks are different, not bad. Different doesn’t _mean_ bad, Gaston. The sooner you learn that, the happier you’ll be. If you just slacked off on the insanity for a moment, you’d likely find that a fair few women _like_ scars.”

“Shut up! All I get from women is pity and disgust now. My face is ruined, my _reputation_ is ruined. My father can barely stand to look at me. The beast took my happiness. But so be it. I’ll take a little happiness for myself.”

He took a step toward her, and she a step back. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

“Oh, I won’t rape you,” he crooned. “After seeing you in that creature’s arms, I wouldn’t bed you if you begged me.”

Like a shot, his hand was around her throat. “But I _can_ make you beg…”

He shoved her away, but before she could rally he backhanded her across the face. She didn’t fall, so he hit her again, knocking her off balance.

He tackled her to the ground, straddling her thighs, and taking his knife from his vest. “I want to see just what it _takes_ to make you cry out in pain.”

She gasped as the blade touched her cheek, gliding across the surface. It hurt, but not the way it once would have, and cold feeling settled in her gut at the understanding of what he was planning to do.

“I know what you are. You’re a _freak,_ like him. Will you cry if I cut out that obscene tongue of yours?” he asked, voice pitched low and soft, eyes dilated in arousal. “How about a finger? Think it will grow back?”

He dragged the knife down her chest, cutting her dress and slicing her skin until he was hovering over her stomach. “How about if I just keep stabbing until we find your limit, eh?”

Belle slid her hand out from under her, grabbing the knife by the blade and twisting it upward, taking Gaston by surprise.

“How about we find yours instead?”

She got her feet under him and kicked him square in the groin, grimacing at finding him hard, but still making him wail and roll back.

She didn’t hesitate for a second before getting to her feet and lunging for the door. She could hear him gasping and struggling to stand, but she didn’t bother to look.

He got to his feet faster than she’d anticipated, and made a grab for her arm. She screamed, hoping to alert passerby for help. The knife was still in his hand, and when he got hold of her sleeve, he wrenched her back, knife aimed for her stomach.

The door flew open at the precise moment something strange and feral bubbled up inside of her. With a snarl she didn’t know she was capable of making, she kicked him again, catching his knife arm and sending him flying backward a distance a woman of her size shouldn’t have been capable of.

If he had thought to attacked again, he didn’t get the chance, as Rum pounced on his back, his arms looped around Gaston’s and his hands behind the larger man’s head, effectively immobilizing him.

Gaston fell with Rum still on his back, and police flooded into the large space.

Rum growled, but released Gaston with the constable asked him to. He rolled to his feet, and Belle met him halfway, crashing into him and throwing her arms around his waist.

“Thank God,” he mumbled into her hair.

“I didn’t know you believed in God,” she whispered, feeling a little giddy and disoriented.

“I’ll thank him anyway, just in case,” he chuckled.

The police were oddly still, and Belle wondered why they weren’t hauling Gaston away. She pulled back from Rum just far enough to see, and realized they had rolled him onto his back, eyes open and glazed over, a knife protruding from his abdomen.

“Wh…what…” she stammered, feeling cold, Rum rubbed her back soothingly. “Did I…”

The constable stood, holding his palms outward to usher them out. “It was self-defense, Miss. You needn’t fret.”

In the end, no one was sure if the knife plunged into Gaston when Belle kicked him, or when Rum leapt onto his back, making him drop it. But the constable, feeling contrite for some slight to Rum that Belle didn’t get the story of, decided that they’d been through enough, and didn’t bother taking either of them in for questioning. In deference to Gaston’s family, the entire incident would likely be swept under the rug, and considering the circumstances, Belle wasn’t really inclined to care.

Let the public think Gaston had run afoul some criminals and died heroically. He was _dead_ , and he could hurt them no longer.

“Are you alright?” Rum asked, standing outside, away from the busy scene. He gently touched the long cut that started at her face and traveled downward, growling quietly in the back of his throat. It was a sound that was oddly soothing to her.

“I’m fine,” she breathed. “I’m just happy to be home.”

Rum blinked. “Home? You mean…you do not wish to return to Africa?”

Belle smiled. “Silly man. I mean _you_. You’re my home.”

Rum smiled back, and leaned down to kiss her. As much as Belle wanted to give in to the kiss, she pulled back. “I was sick, so I must taste like it…plus I feel like I may be sick again.”

Rum pulled her back for another kiss anyway, before removing his coat and wrapping her up in it. “Perhaps you need to see doctor.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather not. How am I to explain these cuts that are bound to heal in a day or two?”

“I…” Rum grimaced. “But perhaps…Belle, does anything feel…different?”

Belle frowned, glancing down at Rum’s hand, which was covering her stomach. “What do you mean? The last few weeks have been hell. In more ways than one.”

“You’ve been sick.”

“Ugh, yes, sick as a dog. And tired, though I hardly know why, all I’ve done is lay around…why are you looking at me that way?”

“Your stomach has gotten bigger.”

Belle reared back, and smacked him ineffectively on the arm. “How dare you! I’ve barely been able to keep a thing down in weeks and you have the _nerve_ to…” she blinked, touching her lower stomach where Martha had only been able to loosely lace her corset, as it didn’t fit quite right anymore, not that Belle had taken the time to think about it, much less care.

“Y…you think…”

Rum smiled softly, touching his brow to hers. “Can’t you feel it?”

She’d been in such turmoil for so long, her body’s changes had been relegated to the back of her mind. She hadn’t felt much of _anything_ in half that time. But now, standing face-to-face with her husband…

“I _do_ feel it. Rum!” she looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. “A baby!”

Rum grinned, gathering her up into his arms. She groaned playfully. “This means you’re going to be impossibly and overbearingly protective, doesn’t it?”

“Probably,” he quipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple chapters left!!!!!
> 
> Next week: Belle and Rum enjoy their reunion.


	18. Together Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Rum return to the Nolan's for a surprise, and spend some time getting "reacquainted"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the skipped update and weird late-night posting! My schedule the past couple of weeks has been so wonky (and will continue to be so through the month of April! But hey! My birthday is soon!)
> 
> I'll be on vacation starting Thursday, so I wanted to be sure i got this posted before I left. Only one more chapter after this!!! But I do have plans for a third (and likely final) installment. AND, if there's interest for it, I've been playing around with the idea of a one-shot prequel of Rum's childhood and life pre-Belle. What do you guys think??
> 
> Thanks so much for all the lovely comments! If I sometimes forget to respond to them all, know that I read every single one (some more than once!) and get so excited when I get them!

After being separated in the chaos after the hearing, everyone gathered at the Nolan estate, where Belle and Rum were welcomed with hugs and cheers.

“Please never get into trouble again,” Ruby said, practically crushing Belle with the strength of her hug. “I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Belle squeaked. “But I can’t promise. Where’s David and Mary Margaret?”

Right on cue, a shriek echoed through the halls of the large house, followed by an angered “YOU DID THIS TO ME!”

Jefferson chuckled. “Well, when we got separated after the hubbub at the courthouse, and later heard you both were okay, we came back here to a melodious chorus of “ _where the hell is my husband?!”_ he mimicked Mary Margaret with a high-pitched voice, earning him a smack from Ruby.

“Is she hurt?” Rum asked, looking up the stairs as if he could see for himself.

“She’s _fine_ ,” Ruby said. “The midwife is with her now, and David’s pacing the halls like he’s being paid to do it.”

Rum gave Belle a look, and she explained. “She’s having her baby, Rum.”

Rum’s eyes widened when Mary Margaret screamed again. “Why is she _screaming_?”

Jefferson raised his eyebrows, and exchanged a look with Ruby. “I imagine pushing a tiny human out of your body smarts a bit, Rum, my boy.”

Rum shook his head. “I…gorillas, they don’t…no…” he looked at Belle, blanching. “You can’t go through that!”

Belle giggled fondly. “I’m afraid it may be too late, darling. But it’ll be okay. I’m tough, remember?” but she glanced nervously up the stairs as well, biting her lower lip.

 

It was some time later, and they were sitting around the fireplace, when David appeared, looking flushed and bedraggled but beamingly happy.

“It’s a girl!” he exclaimed, as if he could barely contain himself. “I have a daughter!”

 

When Belle and Rum were shown their room, Belle all but collapsed onto the bed.

“What. A. Day.”

Rum chuckled. “They prepared a bath for you, Belle.”

Exhausted to the bone though she was, Belle sat bolt upright, and began hurriedly pulling at her ruined clothes. “Thank goodness. I want the stench of that horrible man off of me for good.”

Rum clucked his tongue and brushed away her hands, undoing the buttons on her dress himself. He scowled at the long cut down her torso, that was already healing over.

“No permanent damage,” she said softly.

“Would that I could kill him again,” he growled.

“Don’t think like that, Rum, please. It’s over. He’s gone.”

He kissed her forehead, then knelt to help her remove her stockings. “I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at her.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

He looked up from under the hair curling around his eyes. “It’s my fault this happened. If I hadn’t taken you into the savannah…”

“Rum…” she grabbed his shoulders, guiding him to stand before starting work on the buttons if his waistcoat. “I chose to go with you. Gaston set the whole thing up. If he hadn’t gotten me then, he would have just tried again later, and who knows who could have been hurt in the village.”

“But then I couldn’t follow you right away…”

“Bae was hurt!” she touched the side of his face, assuring that his eyes were looking into hers. “Rum, you are a _wonderful_ protector. You protect the animals, your friends, your family, you protect me. You sailed to a completely foreign country, all alone for _me_. You marched into a court of law with your head held high, heedless of stares, even though it was a situation that I know must have frightened you. You’ve always protected me, and I know you’ll do the same for this little one.”

“But what if I can’t?” he asked miserably. “I can’t help you birth the child…and then when he comes…he’ll be so _small_ …”

Rum had been stunned into silence when they were invited into Mary Margaret and David’s room to meet their new daughter, Emma.

David had handed him the baby proudly, and Rum had been overcome by emotion, tenderly cradling the fuzzy blonde head.

Belle’s breath was taken away by the sight, seeing those beloved green hands so lovingly hold the beautiful child, and she knew just exactly what he would look like, holding his own. She cradled her belly then, suddenly anxious for the little one to be there already, and then she caught Mary Margaret’s tired, but knowing smile.

“I know,” Belle said, guiding him to the thankfully large bathtub. “I’m scared, too. But we’re going to love this child, with everything we have in us.”

“And what if he is like me? What if he looks like me?”

Belle rolled her eyes fondly. “For one, the looks this child would inherit from you would likely be your strong nose and your smile. You weren’t born with skin and eyes like that. For two, if he _was_ born like you…exactly like you…I would be overjoyed because you’re _beautiful_ to me, and I can’t imagine anything cuter than a tiny green copy of you. Will you not love him – or her – if they looked like you?”

“Of course I would!” he breathed, sinking into the water behind her. “I just…I just think I’d rather them have _your_ eyes.”

Belle smiled, leaning back gratefully against his strong chest. “Well, whatever they look like, I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Me either,” he whispered, and she could feel the smile on his lips as they pressed lightly against the side of her neck. “I missed you,” he said, hands stroking along her sides.

“I missed you,” she said, leaning her head back to give him better access. “So much.”

He reached over the side of the tub to grab the bar of rose-scented soap, and began slowly lathering it on her skin. She grinned at the particular care he took to be sure her breasts were clean.

It was a matter of moments before the pretense of washing was abandoned completely, and his hands started exploring in earnest, anxious to become acquainted again with her body.

She whimpered, gripping his thighs when his fingers brushed between her legs, and she wiggled against his erection in retaliation for his teasing, and giggled when he growled.

“No more playing,” he said gruffly. “Need you.”

He stood up with a shower of water, Belle in his arms, and bore her quickly to the bed.

“Rum!” she protested laughingly. “We’re soaked!”

Grunting, he turned away from the bed last second and lowered her to the floor beside the fire, covering her body immediately with his own.

He pressed fevered kisses over her neck and chest, pausing only to suckle and bite at her nipples. When he reached her stomach, he paused again, eyeing the slight bulge in awe. But then suddenly his head was whipping up, eyes round as saucers. “Wait…” he said. “We…can…”

“Everything okay?” she asked him, running her fingers through his hair.

“Can…” he huffed in frustration, but she smiled that he was still rendered to monosyllables whenever they were together. “Will it…hurt baby?”

She grinned. “Oh, I just adore you. No, my love. It won’t hurt the baby.” She didn’t bother to inform him that her confidence on that matter came from having hurriedly asked Mary Margaret while Rum and David were in the huddle with everyone else, admiring Emma. Mary Margaret, tired but wide-awake and radiating joy, had giggled merrily and told her that she had nothing to fear, and that she didn’t blame Belle for her impatience to be alone with her husband one bit.

Rum sighed in relief, trusting her word at once, and sighed again in happiness when his nose brushed her curls, his hands nudging her unresisting legs farther apart.

“Missed your smell,” he said, inhaling deep. “Missed your taste.”

Belle had just a moment to wonder at how unusually talkative he was being, and to find she was quite fond of it, when his mouth touched her at last, and she threw back her head with a moan.

For all that she had grown highly resistant to pain over the years, Belle thought that perhaps she’d grown that much more sensitive to the pleasure her husband brought her. And the weeks she’d been without him had felt like an eternity without his touch, and tears sprang to her eyes at just how marvelous it felt.

But as good as it felt, Rum felt too far away, and she wanted him closer. As close as he could possibly get.

“Please,” she panted, as she tugged on his hair. “Rum, please, I need you.”

He growled, gripping her thighs and doubling his efforts, making her cry out and clamp her knees on either side of his head.

“No! Rum, I want you, I need you in me. Please!”

He pulled back then, and her breath hitched at the fierce look on his face. He was on top of her with inhuman speed, covering her body once more. The firelight played on his skin, making it sparkle gold in some places while making it look inky black in others. He would have been frightening to just about everyone but her. But her heart only doubled its pace in wanting.

“My beast,” she whispered, stroking the side of his face.

His eyes softened, and despite his blown pupils, she wondered if it was a trick of the light that made them look a warm brown instead of cat-like gold.

“My mate,” he growled. “Never let you go again.”

She shook her head, suddenly unable to say anything more, and pulled him closer, slipping a hand between them to guide him to her.

He filled her in one hard stroke, and it felt like coming home. For a long moment they lay still, basking in the joy of reunion. They were as closely connected as they could ever be; her, him, and the life they’d created together, and Belle was loath to lose that.

But before long the demands of their bodies took over, and they moved quickly, harshly.

Belle’s fingernails raked down Rum’s back, all the way to his arse, where she gripped hard. Rum bucked even harder at that, and fastened his mouth to the side of her neck, biting down hard enough to break the skin.

The quick sting was enough to send Belle flying over the edge, her body pulsing and singing and quaking harder than ever before.

She was still in the throes of release when she felt him join her, felt the comforting warmth of him spilling inside of her, and she tightened her arms and legs about him to keep him with her, to keep that warmth for a little while longer.

Belle wasn’t even sure how long they lay like that, but judging by the way her limbs protested when he slowly rolled to the side, it must have been quite a while.

They lay facing one another for a time, simply looking and touching, letting their heartrates slow, begin to beat together.

“You roared,” he said at last, his own voice barely more than a soft growl.

“What?” she asked.

“When you…” he blinked, seeming to not have the word for it. “…Had your pleasure. You roared, Belle.”

“What do you mean, roared? I can’t roar.”

He nodded. “You did. Like a lioness. You did it before to. With…with…” he trailed off, not for lack of language, but for unwillingness to speak Gaston’s name in the intimacy of the moment.

Belle frowned. She _did_ vaguely remember the sensation of growling, but surely Rum was exaggerating? He didn’t look concerned though, only amused, so she supposed it was nothing to worry about.

“Well _you_ left me quite the mark, I think,” she said, touching the side of her neck where she could feel the outline of his teeth.

“You can borrow my cravat,” he said, earning a slap on his arm for it.

Somewhere in the house, they could hear the sweet sound of a newborn crying, and they smiled at each other, each reaching down to touch Belle’s stomach, and dream of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: A final confrontation, a startling discovery, and the start of a new adventure.


	19. Who I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Rum confront Doris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from vacation! But guess WHAT TODAY IS???
> 
> It's my birthday!!!!!!
> 
> What better way to celebrate than to update my fic???? Haha
> 
> Okay, so I know I hinted at a big reveal, but then upon editing I decided that this particular event stood on its own, and the surprise will come in the next chapter which, incidentally, is the LAST!!!! But don't despair, I'm not finished with these two dorks yet!

It was tacitly agreed to allow Belle time to rest and recuperate, and more importantly visit, before even discussing the long trip home.

Rum detested the idea, but Belle needed to return to the French manor. In her rush to get ready the morning of the hearing, she had left her locket behind – the one given to her by her mother, and which contained her picture, along with that of Rum as a child – having not worn it much while she’d been sick.

“I’ll go,” Rum insisted, after Martha had already said much the same. “Tell me where to find it, and I will.”

“No, I need to do this,” Belle said firmly. “I only hope she hasn’t found it and discarded it.”

But Rum obviously wasn’t about to let her go alone, so he trailed right on her heels up the steps to the house.

“Miss!” Cogsworth exclaimed in surprise upon opening the door. He blanched when he glanced over her shoulder at Rum, who was removing his hat.

“Is my grandmother here?” Belle asked primly. Though she had softened somewhat on the stuffy old butler for sparing and returning Austin, she hadn’t quite forgotten that he had helped keep her locked away in the first place.

“Erm, yes, right this way…”

Doris was as Belle expected her to be, sitting in her parlor, already dressed to the nines for the day, sipping tea.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said, not offering Belle or her husband a seat.

Belle had been inclined to stand, but this lapse in manners made her decide to take a seat anyway, crossing her legs in an unladylike fashion. She felt more than saw Rum move to stand just behind her chair, a silent and protective shadow. The utter peace and confidence she felt with him beside her was exhilarating. And for the first time, perhaps in her entire life, Doris French didn’t intimidate her in the least.

“So,” Doris continued, glancing scathingly up at Rum. “This… _man_ of yours, he’s gotten you with child?”

“It’s entirely too early to speak of it,” Belle said, waving a hand. “And besides, _our_ family is _our_ business. I’ve only come today because I left something that belonged to me in my room.”

“Well, the maids have already cleaned it out. Anything you left behind no doubt ended up in one of their pockets.”

Belle narrowed her eyes. “Hmm, no. They’re all far too afraid of you to steal.”

“Not all,” she huffed. “My best maid has stolen away entirely. Or I suppose, rather, _you_ stole her away.”

“Martha _was_ your best maid, and you didn’t treat her he way she deserved to be treated. I didn’t take her away, she left of her own volition, as I have.”

“And now? What? You’ll run away back to the jungle again, is that it? Or have you civilized this creature enough to live in polite society?”

Belle clenched her fists within the folds of her skirt, but she refused to let her grandmother rile her. “If my husband and I decided to live here, we most certainly could. But I think we’ll be returning to our lives soon enough, to begin our family.”

“You’d have _children_ out there? How can you possibly raise them properly?”

Belle scowled. “The same way my Hadithi family has for hundreds of years. Happily, and with all the love we can possibly give.”

Doris shook her head. “I can’t believe you’d just throw away the life I worked _so hard_ to give you.”

“As I said before,” Belle said slowly. “I _am_ grateful for the life you gave me, for the education I was able to have. For the friends I’ve made from that experience. But none of that, _none_ of that makes up for what you’ve done to me,” she stood up then, staring down at her grandmother. “Thanks to you I was ripped from my home, traumatized, beaten…I could have _lost_ my child, all because of _you_. You’ve spent your life worrying over appearances, and making your family bend and warp to fit inside the shape you’ve cut out for them, you’ve missed every chance you’ve had at real _happiness_. All I wanted, as a child, was a grandmother to love me, whom I could love in return. Even as cold as you were…I…I loved you anyway. And _damn_ _me_ if I don’t love you still. But I will _not_ allow you to hurt my child the way you’ve hurt my father and me. We could have been a family, Doris, but now you’re going to be all alone. All you’ll have is wealth…and an empty heart.”

Doris stood, anger etching her remarkably still youthful features. Rum growled lowly, pressing closer to Belle’s back and slipping a possessive hand around her waist to cover her stomach with his palm.

But Doris came no closer, only reached into her pocket and withdrew Belle’s locket, holding it before her.

Belle took the locket, opening it to assure the two pictures were still inside. (She wouldn’t have put it past Doris to remove them.) Then she took Rum’s hand, and led him out, nodding cordially to Cogsworth as she went.

She paused at the door, turning her head slightly, but not looking back. “Goodbye, grandmother.”

 

“Are you okay?” Rum asked, once the estate was well out of sight.

Belle smiled, though it was a bit wobbly. “I’m alright. But why on earth do I feel so sad? She’s never shown me an ounce of affection growing up, and the things she’s done to me since are absolutely unforgivable.”

Rum laced his fingers with hers. “You are sad because, as you said, you love her still. Because you are full of love, even for those who may not deserve it. Where there is not goodness in others…you create it.”

Belle stilled her husband so that she could reach him for a kiss, ignoring the stares from passerby at the unseemly behavior, followed by the double-takes when they caught sight of the man under the hat.

“I can hardly believe how poetic you’ve become.”

He smiled. “I have been educated by a very intelligent woman.”

They continued walking, and Rum was silent for a time, before speaking again. “I hardly remember my father. I should hate him for what he did to me…but I do not.”

“Because you’re full of love, too,” she said, and after a moment, asked, “Is…is Adam truly your name?”

Rum repeated, more haltingly this time, how and when he remembered the name his aunts gave him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s alright,” she said, hugging his arm. “But we know your name, we know your father’s. Would you have any interest in trying to find out more about your past?”

He huffed. “My name was given by aunts, it was probably never known to anyone else. And my father was a criminal, who abandoned his son for money. No, it is not worth our time. I am who I am,” he looked down at her, eyes sparkling. “I am the son of…” he made a gorilla sound, that Belle would best be able to repeat as _Kala_. “…who raised me, and loved me, along with the rest of my gorilla clan. I am the proud husband of Belle, and soon the father of our child.”

“Don’t forget their big brother, Bae!” Belle said, smiling.

He smiled back. “And father of Bae…and Austin. And Jefferson.”

Belle howled at that, earning more disapproving looks that they both roundly ignored.

“ _That_ is who I am,” Rum continued, still chuckling. “And that is who I want to be.”

Belle beamed up at him, rising on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “And that, my love, is more than enough for me. But if you ever change your mind, I would support you, you know that, right?”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I know.”

She grinned, and they continued walking. “And I am Belle, daughter of Maurice and Collette French, member of the Hadithi tribe, friend to Ruby, Mary Margaret, David, and Jefferson. Wife of the Mnyama,” she looked up at coquettishly. “And soon to be mother. And nothing could make me happier.”

“Come,” Rum said, pulling her along. “Let’s go see our family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The surprise for real this time.


	20. Son of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum and Belle are enjoying peace before returning home, until a surprising revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIVE!!
> 
> I know, I know, it's been 84 years. I'm SO sorry it took so long to get this chapter out, but there were technological issues involved. This is the last chapter, BUT I'm not done with these two yet! Part 3 is in the works, so if you have any prompts or suggestions, let me hear them!!! And if you're still reading, bless you!! lol
> 
> Also, tonight is the FINAL OUAT!!!! :O I don't know how our final Rumbelle moments will be, but at least fanfiction will still be here!

Belle was sitting, cradling Emma, while Austin stared curiously over her shoulder. “Easy now,” she warned him. “Emma here is only little. You can’t play with her just yet. I’m afraid you’ll be quite big by the time she _is_ old enough.”

“Can you just imagine your little one?” Ruby asked, smiling. “They’ll probably learn to speak gorilla along with English, and have a whole fleet of them, guarding their every move.”

“Oh no doubt,” Belle laughed.

“Think if it’s a girl,” David said, gazing lovingly over at his child. “I’d hate to be a boy coming around to court _her_! An army of gorillas and lions, all there with Rum lurking menacingly in the background...”

Belle continued to laugh, trying not to jostle the baby. “Rum doesn’t lurk!”

“What if ours is a boy?” Rum asked. “And then the lad at the door would be ours, and the girl might be Emma.”

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret chuckled. “Can we not start talking about that just yet? She’s three days old!”

“The one lurking would be Snow,” Rum continued.

“Again with that nickname?!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “You’ve never said _why_ you called me Snow.”

He gestured to her head. “Because you reminded me of the snow on top of the mountain…white surrounded by black.”

Mary Margaret gave a pleased smile. “Aw, well then…that’s…”

“And your name was such a horrifying mouthful, and rather sounded to me like the sound gorillas make while mating. I couldn’t bear trying to repeat it.”

Mary Margaret blinked at him, and Rum’s teasing smirk almost faltered until she turned calmly to Belle and spoke primly. “Belle? Do you mind? He’s _your_ husband.”

Grinning, Belle happily obliged by reaching over to lightly smack Rum over the head, causing him to guffaw and cringe away melodramatically.

Their merriment was interrupted by a knock at the door, and moment later August Booth was shown in.

“Looks like a party,” he said cheerfully.

“Come in,” David said. “Have a drink.”

“Don’t mind if I do. Say, is that the gorilla?!”

Belle smiled, pushing Austin toward him. “This is Austin. Go on, sweetheart, go visit.”

Austin bounded over to the newcomer, climbing over him and sniffing curiously, until settling on his shoulder to comb through his hair. August chuckled all the while. “I think he likes me!”

After a moment of playing with Austin, August turned to the case he’d brought with him, pulling out some papers. “I’ve brought that marriage certificate. Just sign your names, and it’ll all be completely legal, you’ll officially be Mr. and Mrs. Adam Rumford.”

Belle smiled and took the certificate, gazing at it fondly. She still couldn’t quite think of Rum as _Adam_ , but after knowing that he’d received the name not from his letch of a father, but from his aunties who loved him, she was growing more fond of it. She wasn’t so sure of being a Rumford, however.

“Do you think we could change it to just Rum?” Belle asked. “Neither of our families are exactly the sort we necessarily want to be associated with around here. What do you think, Rum?”

He nodded. “Belle and Adam Rum?”

She giggled. “Leave it to you to put my name first.”

“That can be arranged,” August said. “But unfortunately I’ll have to take that back, have it reworded.”

“We’re sorry to be trouble…”

“Oh, none at all. I understand.”

“Did…did you say Adam Rumford?”

 Everyone looked over to find Martha standing in the entryway of the parlor, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Does that mean something to you?” August asked.

She set the tray down, a deep wrinkle forming on her brow. “It’s just…I also thought I heard you say you were brought up by a pair of aunts, before being taken to Africa.”

“It’s true,” Rum said, a bit warily. “But I was very young at the time. I do not remember much.”

“Come have a seat, Mrs. Potts,” David said, standing up to offer his own. Everyone stared in anticipation at Martha as she took a seat; Belle most of all because she knew that if her old maid hadn’t been so flustered, she would have balked at the idea of taking a seat in the parlor among guests, and in the master’s chair at that.

“What most people don’t know…” she looked at Belle with a small smile. “Is my granddaddy was a white man. My mama, bless her soul, looked the picture of her Kenyan mama, so there wasn’t much for her except the life as a servant. As the story’s told, my granddaddy married into a title and riches, and had many bastards. When my grandmamma went to him when she got with child, he turned her away, and she was taken in by his sisters. Two spinster women who lived in squalor while their brother lived high and mighty. They were already raisin’ one of his bastards, but even with what little they had, they helped my grandmamma however they could.

My mama continued to send them part of her wages for as far back as I could remember. We went back to visit, when I was but a young thing, and there was a boy…oh, I remember him well. Tiny little thing, barely bigger than an infant, for all that he had to be about three or four years old. I can remember my mama asking if he was another of my granddaddy’s, and my aunties said no. Said…well, I can’t remember what she said, but I remember understanding that that little one’s granddaddy was my granddaddy too. I remember how sad my aunties were, said their boy…the little boy’s daddy, was no better than his father. And it wasn’t rightly fair, because _this_ little one wasn’t a bastard at all, and they wanted to take him to his mother’s family, but they were afraid of what his daddy would do…”

Martha shook her head. “I remember they died not long after that, and my mama and I both wondered what happened to that poor boy…Adam, they called him.” she looked up, meeting Rum’s stunned eyes. “I think I know now.”

Rum could barely think, barely feel. In the back of his mind, there were the vaguest images of a cheerful young girl who’d tried to get him to play. “What were…their names?”

“Oh, Brigitte and Joan Rumford,” she brushed a tear from her cheek. “I think it may seem as though we’re cousins, you and me.”

Rum looked over at Belle, who looked just as stunned as he, and tears were in her eyes as well.

“Wow,” August breathed, breaking the tension. “Small world.”

“Do you know what this means?” Jefferson asked. “Rum, you could find your mother’s family!”

“How?” Rum asked, a little tersely, feeling the intense desire to flee. “I don’t know who she was.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to find out,” August said. “I could do some digging. These types of things _never_ stay silent, and memories are long in this part of the world. You said your father’s name was Malcolm Rumford? Do you know what his father’s name was?” he looked to Martha.

Martha shook her head. “No, but the family he married into were the Pans, and they went bankrupt long ago.”

“Yes, I believe you’re right. But someone knows who Rum’s mother was, because you just said he’s not a bastard. Stands to reason old Malcolm actually married.”

“I believe so,” Martha said. “I remember them saying such as he charmed the poor girl, then left her.”

“What do you think, Rum?” David asked, eyed Rum carefully.

The whole conversation was buzzing around Rum’s mind, and he felt like his entire world was crashing down. He couldn’t stand it a moment longer, and before he even realized he’d stood up, he was outside, headed for the woodsy area behind the Nolan’s house.

He was up a tree in a blink of an eye, trying to steady his breathing. He wasn’t alone long before he felt the warmth that always accompanied his wife’s presence, and he relaxed his shoulders slightly, relieved she’d followed him, even though he knew in the back of his mind she would.

He had enough presence of mind to reach down a hand and lift her up, then he pulled her roughly into his arms, situating her until her back was to his front, and he was wrapped as securely around her as possible. Both to keep her safely balanced on the small branch, and to keep his own sanity safely balanced as well.

She stroked his hand where it cradled her stomach, saying nothing.

After the sun had time to move through the trees, casting them into shadow, did she finally speak.

“Are you okay?”

He grunted, a sound he hadn’t made in quite a long time. Not outside the bedroom, at least.

She turned her head to look at him. “Do you want to go home now?”

He blinked down at her. “Wh…what a...ab-out our mmmarriage license?

“The fact that this has made it difficult for you to speak tells me all I need to know, Rum. We’re married, I don’t need a paper from the justice of the peace saying so. Or, we can just sign the Rumford one and be done with it. If you need to go home now, we will. Simple as that.”

He sighed. “You d-don’t think wwwe should t-try? Find m-my mother’s family?”

“Do _you_?” she turned in his embrace to straddle the branch before him, facing him. “Is that something you want?”

“W-what do _you_ th-think?”

“What _I_ think about this doesn’t matter, Rum. This is _your_ life, your past.”

He shook his head. “My past…but…but _our_ l-life. Yours…mine…and…” he touched her stomach gently.

“You want our baby to have a history, is that it?”

“Want…to say I…I’m more than the son of a coward.”

Belle couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, Rum, darling, you are far, _far_ more than the son of Malcolm Rumford. But if you want to know, or at least try to know…that’s your right, my love. And as I said, I will be with you every step of the way…but in the end,” she shrugged one shoulder. “No matter what we find…it will make no difference to me. Or to this child.”

Rum gave a half-smile, and pulled her closer, so that her legs draped over his.

“But if we’re going to do this, it should be now,” Belle said. “A little longer and it will be difficult for me to travel, and after that…well, a newborn would make things even _more_ difficult, I would imagine.”

Rum nodded. “Then…we go to Scotland?”

“I guess we’re going to Scotland! Better get a letter sent to Papa, to let him know we’re okay.”

Rum nodded again, but he wasn’t paying much attention any longer, as he’d gotten distracted by her scent, his nose brushing along the edge of her jaw, where the bite mark was still faintly visible if you knew where to look.

“I suppose we’d better go in…” Belle said, her breath beginning to quicken, but her words clashed with her hands that she buried in Rum’s hair.

“Not yet,” he said, nipping lightly at her neck.

She chuckled. “We’ll fall.”

“Won’t let you fall.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

 

_End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time....Belle and Rum embark an a brand new adventure to learn the truth of who Rum really is.


End file.
